Believe
by harperrose87
Summary: BOOK #6 [cont. of "RUSH"]: With his family and friends behind him in his crusade to defeat evil, William Mulder is determined to rally the surviving people of the nation to destroy what has consumed the earth against all odds. The fight for the future has begun - it's a dangerous battle of good versus evil. Who will triumph in the end?
1. Author's Notes

Author's Notes:

Welcome to Book #6 of the series I've written! I've included the following basic notes about my writing, the characters, etc. for your personal benefit:

1. Because this is a series looking at the world in an unknown view, I retain many artistic liberties as to my depiction of what would happen should the Colonists dominate the earth. However, I strive greatly to keep the X-Files specific history from the original series legitimate and accurate, with only a few minor artistic liberties taken (mainly in conjunction with what has already been written in my series prior to this one). My goal is to bridge these stories to the past using a rich sampling of X-Files series history to provide continuity.

2. What this means, essentially, is I don't own a damn thing about the X-Files, only what I write, my depiction of the world post-Colonization and any additional characters that have not appeared on the show previously, including my adult interpretation of William (as well as the original cover artwork). You can bet your boots that if I owned the X-Files, there would be more movies, a new series and anything else I could dream up.

3. I display real people in my cover images for this series because when I dreamt up these tales, they are the faces that inspired the characters. Personally, this helps me to eliminate the guessing game of what a "new" person looks like while reading, allowing me to enjoy their personality attributes that come alive through the dialogue. The people I've modeled the characters I've introduced after physically, and maybe even some personality traits, are as follows:

Brendan Fehr (Will/William Mulder)  
Jennifer Lawrence (Cara/Caraline Mulder)  
Liam Hemsworth (Cyrus English)  
Lilly Collins (Christina Harrison)

The twins, Maddox and Emma, are represented by child actors/models.

Again, I don't own them. We'd all be in trouble if I did.

4. I believe in Mulder/Scully romance. They belong together. Period. So please don't expect them to just be friends or whatever. They are essentially married in my mind at this point in their lives. :) I believe, as well, in Doggett/Reyes, though I must admit to being responsible for their "permanent" elimination during this series. Ye have now been warned.

5. This story's rating hovers between a T and an M. Though the entire thing isn't dark, it also isn't all sunshine, puppies and rainbows. It's the end of the world, people. There are bound to be scary, unthinkable things happening in my interpretation of such a thing. But I promise, what is dealt with isn't super crazy or graphic, in my humble opinion. There are four letter (and five letter) words used thoughtfully to match the characters, setting, violence and implied scenarios. Don't want any of that? Then go no further than these notes. Again, ye have now been warned.

6. These stories of this new series are written for you, the fans. Each of the people who fell in love with William and Caraline, as well as the characters we all know and love, have motivated me to keep going. So please, feedback in the form of reviews is essential! This is for you, kids. You're driving. You're moving me along with your candor, so don't forget to leave a little note letting me know how your journey is going! :)

Thank you so very much for your support, love and energy - have an amazing final adventure!


	2. Chapter 1

this book is for everyone looking to try something for the first time -  
this was my first attempt at writing an entire fanfiction series and I've enjoyed it immensely

so just do whatever it is you're hoping to do  
you might just surprise yourself

* * *

**BELIEVE**

\bə-ˈlēv\

verb

to accept something as true, genuine, or real

* * *

_"I want to believe that the dead are not lost to us. That they speak to us, as part of something greater than us - greater than any alien force. And if you and I are powerless now, I want to believe that if we listen, to what's speaking, it can give us the power to save ourselves."_

_- Fox Mulder_  
_"The Truth"_

CHAPTER 1

August 14, 2013  
Chinle, Arizona  
8:13 AM MST

"Max! ... Emma! ... Come on! Let's go!"

William Mulder pinched the bridge of his nose, massaging his eyes as he waited by the empty hallway. The patter of feet filled the once quiet air, which was accompanied by Will's impatient huff. "Come on, guys! We've got to get going, alright?" He brushed his twins Maddox and Emma Mulder forward, shaking his head in amazement as he examined Max's pants. "Wait, Max!" Will called.

The boy froze; Will crouched down next to him, though he didn't have to squat very far. Max was nearly half as tall as he was. "Let me see these pants," Will said, ripping the hems so they converted into shorts instead of the flood-height inseam they were from being too small to accommodate his childrens' unnatural growth rate. "There," Will nodded, proud of his quick handiwork. "Now you've got shorts."

"Daddy," Max said, eying his father, "those were River's pants."

Will winced. The Hosteen Clan wasn't extremely well-off, and he felt bad for destroying property that wasn't his own. "You might've told me that before I ripped them, Max," Will chided.

"I didn't know you were going to rip them," Max defended.

Will's eyebrow raised. "Right," he replied. "So you didn't take a peek into my mind just now?"

Max gulped. "Um ..."

"No lies," Will ordered sternly, his fatherly voice seeming to be well-practiced lately as the children developed into people with the physical, personality and emotional characteristics of nearly tweens though they were still one month shy of their first birthday. "If I catch you lying again, you're grounded."

"Daaaad ..." Max's pout was etched deep into his face.

"Don't 'Daaaad' me," Will interrupted, his eyes narrowing. "I mean it. No lies."

"Okay," Max mumbled.

"Go," Will instructed as he stood, watching Max scamper off into the kitchen. He caught his wife's eyes as she paused on her way into the hall to let Max pass. "At this rate, we'll have teenagers by the time they're two," he commented.

Caraline Mulder stepped toward Will, taking his hand lovingly. "We're approaching rough years," Cara assured with gentle understanding. "Just stay the course."

"Emma doesn't seem affected," Will noted, staring into the empty area where he saw the twins disappear.

"Oh, she is," Cara corrected. "Trust me."

Will's brows wrinkled. "What do you mean?"

"Well, let's just say she can get sassy when ... certain subjects ... are discussed."

Will's eyes widened. "No!" he gasped in horror. "God, please tell me we're not there yet!"

Cara nodded. "I'm afraid so."

"Shit! Damnit!"

"Will-"

"Who is it?" Will growled.

"She's essentially ten, Will!" Cara assured. "It's innocent. They have no concept of anything yet."

"Innocent my ass. If he touches my daughter, I'll break his hands, whoever he is!"

Cara laughed. "It's River," she explained.

Will's eyes shut. Shilah Hosteen's son River was a handsome boy and a polite one at that. "Damn. I didn't want to have to break River's hands."

"Will! They aren't doing anything. Sarah and I have chaperoned their so-called 'dates.' Besides, I think it's adorable."

"Of course you would."

"And what is that suppose to mean?" Cara asked, her hands finding her hips.

"Just that you women always think it's cute, but I was a boy ... I know what they think about."

"'You women'?"

"Cara-"

"River is ten, Will!" Before he could object, she squeezed his hands. "Besides, you were a boy for like five minutes of your life."

"Five minutes inside the mind of an adolescent boy is quite enough to understand what they're about."

"Think of it this way - you can always peek into his mind if you wanted to." She smiled when she saw Will's slight relief at the advantage.

"Don't think I won't," he replied, kissing her knuckles.

"God help anyone Emma ever tries to really bring home."

"She's not bringing anybody home that I don't already approve of. If he wants to be with my daughter, he'll be answering to me first."

Cara shook her head. "You're one shotgun shy of a stereotype, Will."

"I think I can kinda help with that," came a voice near them. They both turned to see Fox Mulder smiling at them, a large handgun held out to his son. "It's got fresh rounds and I've got more in my bag."

Will took the gun, tucking it into the waistband of his jeans. "Thanks, Dad."

Mulder nodded. "So, you're just finding out about River and Emma, huh?" Cara's eyes went wide, her hand reaching out and softly swatting at him. "What?" he asked with a confused yelp.

"You knew about his?" Will asked incredulously.

"Uh ..."

Will growled, walking away with disgust toward the kitchen. "I'm having a talk with him as soon as we are settled in Texas!" he warned Cara. "In the meantime, no alone time!" Will ordered, disappearing behind the wall.

Her hand swatted again at Mulder. "Ow!" he mumbled.

"You're in trouble," his daughter in law informed.

"Me?" Mulder asked, baffled. "What did I do?" With her eyes narrowed he hoped playfully, Cara followed Will's path into the kitchen away from Mulder, leaving Mulder confused behind her. He heard another's approach, knowing who it was immediately without looking. "How is this my fault?" he asked with a frown.

Dana Scully laughed, her hand finding Mulder's arm. "You spilled the beans," she explained.

"Well, William is blind if he didn't see it before now."

"He's been a little preoccupied ... planning a rebellion crusade kinda has taken up his time."

"Yeah, well it's not my fault."

Scully stroked his face lovingly. "Isn't being a grandparent great?" she murmured.

"Oh yeah," Mulder said sarcastically, rubbing his chest where Cara swatted him. "Just not quite sure if being a father in law is as much fun right now."

"DAD!" Will called from outside in an annoyed voice. "YOU'RE IN TROUBLE!"

"Or being a father, for that matter," Mulder mumbled. "Settle down, William!" Mulder shouted. "Whatever happened, it's not my fault!"

Scully smiled as she watched him stomp outside toward where Will had disappeared to, clutching her bag in her hand. She felt like all she ever did was pick up and relocate, her belongings few enough to fit in a duffel bag that they were hardly ever taken out of. Yet despite the constant movement, she was relieved to finally have her entire family with her, grateful for the bonuses of friends and before unknown family.

"Good morning, Dana," Cyrus English said in his usual sultry Australian accent behind her, quickly taking the bag from her hand. The tall, handsome young man's megawatt smile seemed forced as he strapped the bag across his broad back.

"Good morning and thank you," Scully replied. "Hey wait," she said softly, catching Cyrus' hand. He turned and looked down at her, easily over a foot taller than her. "What's wrong?"

"Just didn't sleep much last night," Cyrus admitted, his tone conveying his desire to drop the discussion.

"Well then take another shift besides first."

"Nah," Cyrus said with a laugh. "Nothing a little coffee to go won't fix." He squeezed her hand then released it, continuing on his way out the door as she watched with maternal concern. Over the last several weeks while Will prepared to set out for Mount Weather in Virginia, she noticed a growing isolation in Cyrus, as if he was attempting to remove any emotional attachment he may have held to the others. Though he was still heavily involved in the execution of the road trip with her son, Mulder, Shilah and Eric, she knew he was still becoming more distant but for a reason she didn't know.

If she was a betting woman, she would say it would have had something to do with the next person she encountered that morning in the passageway of the home. Christina Harrison, a lovely young woman with a heart of gold, was toting her own bag, pausing to greet Scully. "Good morning, Dana," Christina nearly chirped. Despite the circumstances surrounding them, Scully was always baffled with Christina's resilience and nearly unbreakable happiness that she exuded. She knew it had to do with the young woman's incredibly strong faith, reminding her of many of the other girls in her catechism class that she envied for their seemingly "direct" connection with the God they learned about and committed to believing.

"Good morning, Christina," Scully replied with a smile. "Well," she sighed, "today's the day, isn't it?"

Christina nodded. "It's terrifying, if I can be honest," she admitted.

"It's quite alright. I doubt anyone here is feeling any differently."

"It's so strange. In a sense, it feels like we've been planning a road trip vacation. And then I remember that it's not even close." Christina laughed, hearing Scully laugh gently too.

"I know the feeling."

As she started to leave, Scully called to Christina, "Hey, Christina?"

"Yeah?" Christina asked as she turned back.

"Have ... have you spoken to Cyrus lately?"

Scully saw the evident shift in Christina's body language. "No," the young woman replied, her still-damp waves swinging and brushing her collarbone as she shook her head. "He ... um, he hasn't really been social."

"I know," Scully agreed. "That's why I'm worried."

With a small shrug that Scully knew was hiding emotions, Christina left, Scully once again alone in the kitchen. Knowing there wasn't an answer to be had at that particular moment, she resigned herself to front porch where she observed Will and Mulder loading the four vehicles that would be making the cross-country trip. John, Shilah and Eric, including their families, were following along, convinced of the necessity of being directly alongside Will during the battle. Will hated the risk they were putting themselves and their wives and children in, but he understood their commitment and admired their willingness to fight.

"Alright," Will finally called, the crowd outside of the home now chattering and milling about. His voice silenced them, the attention falling on him. "As much as I hate saying it, it's time."

Will took a step back as people began to embrace each other, neighboring clans wishing them well on their journey, vowing to keep everyone going in sacred prayer. A swarm of nervous energy erupted in Will's stomach, reality sinking and grounding him in place beside the SUV he was to ride with Cara and the children in. "You alright, William?" Mulder asked as he placed his hand on his son's shoulder.

He gave Mulder a soft nod. "It's just ... this is it."

"Mmm-hmm. But this is only the beginning, William. This isn't the end."

Will inhaled deeply. "Yeah," he breathed on his exhale, rubbing his eyes. He forced a small smile to his father. "I've got to go make my rounds."

* * *

Goodbyes were said and tears wiped away as the group boarded their vehicles for the journey east to Texas, a nearly nine-hundred mile journey that would take approximately thirteen hours to complete, three driving shifts per adult splitting the burden over about four hours behind the wheel each. Will had settled on making Dallas the first stop in anticipation of being able to find resources there - the larger cities were still the best bet for restocking supplies.

Will had hoped that Cara's and Cyrus' presences were enough to block their location from any Censure tracking, though he didn't have much hope for the conspicuacy of their four-car-caravan that looked rather out of place on the mostly empty roads they drove on. Two-way radios would be used in each of the four cars in place of cell phones, Will not trusting the interference possibilities from the Censure with such devices.

He prayed for an uneventful trip as a whole but knew his request was rather large considering the climate of the nation. Instead, he refocused his wish to a mostly uneventful trip, asking for extra preparedness in anticipation of any bumps they would come to along the way. Will was impressed, though, when at four hours in during the shift change in north central New Mexico that there wasn't anything to be reported. No suspicious interferences of the radios, no sinking feelings in the guts of his two Shields, no premonitions sensed by John. As he settled into the driver's seat to relieve Cara, Will stretched his neck from side-to-side, buckling his seat belt. "Ready?" he asked his kids with a grin, who didn't seem as enthused.

"I'm tired of sitting," Emma whined.

"My legs hurt. They're all cramped," Max complained.

"Really?" Will asked, shaking his head. "Come on, guys. You just got up and stretched."

"This is so boring," Emma droaned.

"Yeah, it is really boring," Max agreed.

"Hey," Cara corrected with sternness, "that's enough from you two. Your father is right - you were just up and stretching. You both knew this would be a long trip today, so you need to make sure you remember your agreement to be patient, okay?"

The twins nodded with semi-dramatic sighs under their breaths, Cara adding hers to the mix as she closed her eyes and reminded herself that they were maturing more rapidly than a normal child, and normal kids even had trouble dealing with the onset of adolescence. "Please tell me we're going to survive having full-blown tweens," Cara whispered, "because I'm thinking this whole eight-to-ten-year-old phase is flying by with every second. I'm not even sure we can call them ten year-olds. Maybe they're more like eleven or twelve."

"You're telling me," Will grumbled as he drove. "Maybe we can pawn them off on the next rotation."

"Will!"

"What? I'm teasing ... sort of." He eyed the kids through the rearview mirror, both with headphones on as they listened to old portable CD players they were given by the other kids in the clan. "Besides," he added flirtatiously, his right hand finding the inside of Cara's bare thigh below the hem of her shorts, "it could be fun." Cara laughed, gripping his hand in hers. Will lifted it to kiss it gently, savoring the taste of his wife's skin.

"Eww, gross, Dad!" Max interrupted.

"You know what's gross?" Will replied in a matching childish tone. "Picking your nose. But me," Will kissed Cara's knuckles again, "kissing your beautiful mother is definitely not gross."

Max's face wrinkled at the sight, shaking his head as he focused on the comic book he had on his lap. Emma's eyes sparkled as she watched her parents. "I don't think it's gross," she offered with a dreamy look on her face.

"Well, YOU should," Will corrected, thinking of River. "No kissing or dating for you until you're thirty."

"Thirty?!" Emma wailed. "I'll be DEAD by then!"

Will rolled his eyes, Cara turning to look at him in the passenger's seat. "So why is it that Max shouldn't think kissing is gross but Emma should?" she asked, her brow arched.

"Because," Will replied.

"Because is not an answer, Will," Cara chided. "There shouldn't be a double-standard for dating rules!"

"Fine!" Will agreed. "Max, no kissing or dating until you're thirty." He squinted back at the boy, who shrugged.

"Fine by me," Max mumbled.

"That's not fair!" Emma whined. "How will we even know when we are thirty?!"

"Your mother and I will determine that."

"Mommy!"

"Will, that's a bit harsh," Cara agreed. "I mean, we-"

"Don't even finish that sentence," Will interrupted.

"Mom, you're not thirty?" Max asked, his eyes widening. He heard his father grumble in front of him. "But you and Dad ..."

"Enough, Maddox," Will warned. "In fact, that's enough about ..." He stopped, his eyes narrowing.

"Enough about what?" Emma asked.

"Hang on," Will said in a suddenly quiet, serious tone, leaning forward as he tried to focus on something ahead of them in the distance. Sensing his mood, the children immediately became equally as quiet, their eyes focusing ahead where Will's now were.

"DAD!" Max shouted, trying to get his father's attention.

"Not now, Max!" Will replied sharply.

"What is it?" Cara asked softly, feeling nervous for Will's sudden shift.

Will didn't want to reply, but he knew his attempt to hide what he saw and sensed was futile considering Max's ability. "Censure road block," he reported, the radio quickly moving to his lips. "Dad, we've got a Censure road block about a half mile up," he said shakily over the receiver. He simultaneously slowed the car down, setting the pace for the others by being in the front.

Cara began to panic. "Will, what do we do?" she whispered.

"William," Mulder said over the radio, "how many are there?"

"Max?" Will asked. "Can you tell how many there are?"

The boy focused. "I think six, but Dad-"

"Six, maybe more," Will replied to Mulder, interrupting Max, clicking the button on the side of the two-way.

"Shit."

"I'll handle them. I need you and Mom to protect Cara and the kids. That's where they'll go first, I need you guys to play defense."

"Will, I'm not letting you go alone," Cara insisted.

"Daddy, listen to me! I can help!" Max added.

"No," Will said firmly to both of them. "Dad," he spoke over the radio, "did you hear me?"

"Yes, William. But you can't do it alone," Mulder argued.

"I know." Will took a breath. "Cyrus, are you following this?"

"Yeah, mate," Cyrus murmured. "I've got you."

"Shilah? Eric? You're with Dad and Mom."

"We're ready," Shilah replied.

The cars stopped and parked; Cara quickly grabbed Will's hand when he released the steering wheel. "Don't. Let's try and go around them," she pleaded.

"How? How can we possibly go around them?" Will asked.

"We go off-road."

"Cara-"

"Will, please listen to me when I tell you it's a mistake to confront them," Cara reasoned. She watched him silently sit and consider her words. "You've got to trust me on this."

The silence deafened the air; it ate the resolve out of everyone. "Alright," Will finally agreed, visibly bothered by his choice. "We're going around," Will announced over the radio.

"Around ... how?" Cyrus asked back.

"Ask your sister," Will grumbled.

"Around off-road," Cara quickly answered as she pulled the radio toward her.

"Alright," Cyrus said with a sigh.

"Shilah? Eric? You both on board?" Will asked.

"Yep," was the unsure response from Eric.

Chewing his lip in contemplation, Will looked over at Cara. "You're sure about this?" he asked. He saw her nod.

"Remember the ship, Will? This is the same thing. We can't divide," Cara explained.

Will flicked on the blinker a little harder than necessary, his worry controlling his actions as he first pulled back onto the road, then whipped quickly to the right around the larger rocks as the tires crashed onto the dusty desert ground. "Hang on, guys!" Will instructed, not letting up for speed, the SUV bouncing rapidly across the terrain with three more following.

The Censure's vehicles and guards came closer into view, and Will saw it the instant they were spotted, the realization on the faces of the enemy replacements evident. "Shit," Will grumbled, gripping the wheel and speeding up more, the twins watching through the tinted windows in terror as they saw the Censurians begin to pursue them. Will's palms were sweaty as he kept on course, Cara silent beside him though he couldn't help but notice her fear that matched their childrens' on her face as well.

_This is more eventful than I bargained for,_ Will thought madly as he cut the wheel sharply to avoid the debris of the terrain he navigated. Emma's scream pierced through the air when Will had to slam on the brakes, a Censurian vehicle seeming to come out of nowhere to cut them off. The SUV with the young family inside of it slid to a hard stop, each person jolting against the automatically tightened seat belts as the clouds of dust spun up from the tires blocked their view out of the windshield.

"OUT OF THE CAR!" a Censurian barked on Will's side, three others at the other doors to the vehicle becoming visible as the dust settled. "I SAID, GET OUT OF THE CAR!"

"Daddy!" Emma cried.

"It's okay, Emma," Will assured gently though his heart was racing.

"GET OUT OF THE CAR NOW!" the Censurian demanded, his tone frighteningly loud.

"You need to run, you hear me?" Will said to Cara. "Max, you need to protect Mommy and Emma and run."

"No! I don't want to leave you, Daddy!" Max argued.

"Maddox, when I say, you will take your mother and sister and run!" Will ordered. The boy became silent behind him; he saw how his father briefly gripped his mother's hand.

"OUT OF THE CAR! NOW!" the Censurian screamed, slamming the butt of the automatic weapon against the door, the collision making Emma and Cara jump.

"Will-" Cara began.

"Go," Will begged. "I'll find you."

"No, Will ... not again ..."

"When I count to three, Max," Will instructed. He slowly undid his seat belt, lifting his hands in the air. "One ... Two ..."


	3. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

"Enough, Maddox," Will warned. "In fact, that's enough about-"

"DAAAAAD!" Max screamed in a tone that was beyond desperate.

"Jesus, Max!" Will said as he jumped in surprise from his son's voice. "What's wrong?"

_Wait. We're driving,_ Max thought slowly. His intense brown eyes focused ahead, the emptiness of the road where he once saw the dark vehicles manned by equally dark men confusing him. His full bottom lip parted from the thinner top one, his mouth opening in surprise as he felt the eyes of his family members on him.

Things seemed to be moving in slow motion around him, a white fog resting over the images he took in. He saw his mother looking back at him in worry. Max had never noticed, or perhaps he did but just never focused on how radiantly beautiful his mother was. Yet somewhere in his stupor of trying to put the pieces together in his mind, Max clearly saw it among the rubble. His mother was so young. She was beautiful.

He also noticed that he looked like his father. Which, in turn, made him look like his grandfather. He knew his profile would be distinguished like theirs as well. He wanted to look like them - they were the bravest men he knew. Max turned and saw that Emma, his fraternal twin, looked exactly like their grandmother, complete with bright auburn hair. The exception were her vibrant green eyes that reminded him of the ones belonging to the skinny cat who lurked around the settlement in Arizona.

Every sense of his body was heightened. He could smell the lingering citrus notes of his father's deodorant that became warmed by his body temperature that had risen with his nerves. He could clearly hear the way Emma's tongue moistened her petal pink lips in anticipation of something. He could see through his mother's eyes - he could see her so much that it hurt his eyes to look. His torn pants scratched under his fingertips, the sensation of the fabric vibrant and sharp. He tasted the bitterness and grainy texture of the hot dusty air that blew through the opened windows.

"MAX!"

His father's voice snapped him out of his haze; he blinked quickly as he began to refocus on the present, whatever he saw before becoming a distant memory. "MAX!" Will's voice was worried, and he tried to look back at his son.

"Max!" Cara begged, taking Max's hand as she stretched toward him across to the back seat. "Say something!" Max felt that his mother's hand was soft - incredibly soft. It felt like it would melt at his touch.

"I ..." Max paused. "I think I saw the future." It escaped from him with a breath, hushed and worried.

Immediately, Will flicked his blinker on and signaled the others to pull over, parking the car after a sudden stop. "Max," Will said gently, turning toward his son, "are you alright? Are you in pain?"

Max shook his head. "I feel fine. I ... was ... just confused."

"What did you see, Max?"

"What's going on?" Mulder's voice came over the radio.

"Hang on, Dad," Will answered him sharply, tossing the radio down as he kept his eyes locked on his son's. He saw the fear in the boy's eyes. "Max," he whispered, "it's alright. Tell us."

"Censurians," Max said with a swallow. "A road block."

"Where?"

"On this road."

Will inhaled. "What happened, Max?"

"You wanted to fight them ... but Mommy said go around. They stopped the car and were going to kill you. And you wanted me to run with Mommy and Emma."

Will quickly unbuckled his seat belt and climbed out of the car, opening Max's door and taking the boy into his arms. Max shook as he cried. "Shh," Will urged tenderly, brushing the thick brown hair away from his son's eyes. "It's alright."

Mulder jogged up to Will's side, seeing his son comforting his grandson. "What happened?"

Will looked up at him as he continued to hold Max. "We can't take this road," Will replied. "Max saw a Censurian road block."

Mulder's brow furrowed. "Saw?"

Will nodded. "In his mind."

"The future?" Mulder asked, stunned.

"Yeah."

"Is he ...?"

"He's alright. No pain, not like me. Just scared."

"Alright," Mulder said, his hands settling onto his hips, "where do we go?"

"There's an exit to head north coming up," Will murmured. "We'll bypass Dallas. Head up to Oklahoma City. We'll just have to see where it takes us."

"I'll let the others know."

As Mulder walked back to his car, Will pulled away from Max just enough to look down at him. "How are you doing?" he asked quietly. "You okay?" He saw the boy nod. "Good," he replied, kissing his forehead. "We're going to get off of this road. No more reason to worry now, alright?" Max nodded again, the relief changing his expression slowly. Will gave him a small grin. "Any time you see stuff like that, don't be afraid of it, okay? We're right here. We're not going anywhere."

"Mommy was right, though," Max noted softly.

"Right about what?" Will asked.

"She said we were stronger together, that you couldn't leave us. You wanted to leave us to protect us."

"I'm not going to leave you guys," Will assured. "Now, how about we get going, alright?"

"Alright," Max replied with a small smile.

* * *

Near Amarillo, TX  
3:39 PM CST

The caravan parked in the seemingly empty lot of the gas station and convenience store that they knew had once thrived along the side of the highway. Dust and dirt covered the pumps that Will and Cyrus inspected, and their hopes for the fuel lines to still be operable or contain any residual gasoline were slim. "We're going to have to go into town," Cyrus finally said softly to his brother in law as they stood alone, the others watching from the cars.

"It's like bringing a traveling circus if we take everyone," Will remarked, his arms folded across his chest as he looked in the direction of Amarillo. "Too much unnecessary attention."

"I'll go with Shilah and Eric. Caraline can shield you and the others," Cyrus determined.

"And leave me here?" Will shook his head. "Not happening. You three will get killed."

"I happen to be able to defend myself, thank you very much."

"Cyrus, Censurians are everywhere. They've taken over every single state."

"My point exactly." Cyrus eyed Will. "You know it's safer if the three of us go. Our faces aren't on the telly, mate. Besides, I'm fairly certain Caraline would have a coronary if you went without her. And I'm not letting my little sis go."

Will's lips pressed together as he watched the skyline. "Well I guess you've made your mind up, then," he commented.

"It's for the best," Cyrus offered, sensing Will's irritation. "I'm just trying to get us to where we've got to go. We've got the curfew to consider, don't forget. Besides, you can keep tabs on things through Shilah and Eric."

_Damn. The curfew._ Will had nearly forgotten about the Censure's warnings via the latest broadcast to the people to remain in their homes or take shelter between the hours of eight at night through five the next morning. No one was permitted to be outside or on the roads without strict appropriate permission. The Command had been clear as to the reason for the curfew to be enforced - ground patrols would be searching for any activity that was deemed "a threat to society" to "protect the people." What it really meant was that the Censurians would be hunting down rebels, specifically Will, and didn't want people to get in the way.

Will then remembered Max's words, wondering who was encompassed in the "staying together" his son had referred to. "Fine," he sighed. He couldn't find any other words, too consumed with his worry to be able to convey his feelings properly.

Cyrus exhaled in relief, leaving his side to return to the SUV he was riding in. He opened the door and fished out his clips from his bag, seeing Mulder's, Scully's and Christina's confusion out of the corner of his eye. "Where are you going?" Mulder asked. "And why are you stocking ammunition?"

"Going into town," Cyrus answered quietly, not making direct eye contact with any of them. He felt Christina's burning stare on him, knowing she was as much surprised as she was growing worried.

"By yourself?" Scully asked in disbelief.

"With Shilah and Eric," Cyrus replied, loading his gun with a click. "Fuel lines are dry. We need to fill the cans. It's for the best." He zipped his bag shut with a swift yank.

"I'll go with you," Mulder said quickly.

"No," Cyrus interrupted firmly. "You've got to keep William out of trouble," he added in what he hoped came across as a lighter tone. He refused to look at Christina, keeping his eyes ahead on Mulder and Scully in the front seats. "He needs the extra eyes back here."

"It's too dangerous," Scully argued. "We-"

"Dana, we need fuel," Cyrus argued back. "As it is, we're going to get to Oklahoma City after dark, which is a problem in and of itself. With the curfew the Censure's starting to enforce, we're in too much uncertainty to travel at night in such an obvious caravan. The longer we dally about and debate the risk of going, the more time we waste."

Both Mulder and Scully knew he was right. With a hesitant nod from Mulder, they watched Cyrus slip out of the car after his own curt nod, still avoiding Christina's eyes as he shut his door. He swallowed back his emotions, the detachment he had practiced over the last several weeks becoming unfortunately natural. He hated being so concise and practical, but detaching from the people he dared to call family was easier than being attached to them when there was such a great chance for loss.

He didn't know who he was kidding, but Cyrus quickly figured out that he wasn't able to handle having a family. He couldn't care for people so much. This life he now lived was nothing like the camp he had built - no one was ever really in danger there. He knew he especially couldn't love a woman - her - so much when much more could go terribly wrong. He envied Will's strength - Cyrus didn't know how Will managed to do it, the risk constantly surrounding those he loved. How did he stay together? Why did he not seem to fall apart at the seams like he was now?

Not one to be ignored, Christina threw open her door and jogged after him, grabbing his arm when she caught up to him. "Hey!" she called with confused irritation, feeling him stop. He kept his back to her, her touch burning his skin.

"What is it?" he asked; he grit his teeth against the warmth of her. _Don't feel. You can't feel. You'll hurt her._

"Cyrus, look at me," she whispered.

"I can't," Cyrus said back softly, his head dropping. His eyes were closed - he might as well have been bleeding from a knife lodged deep into his stomach as he listened to her.

"Cyrus-"

"Christina, I can't," Cyrus interrupted, his tone harsh. "Just let me do my job, yeah?"

Christina was taken back by his tone, hurt from the coldness that emanated from his voice. She wanted to believe it was a defense tactic, that he cared too much and it scared him, but she wasn't sure what the truth was as she watched him walk away after she released her grip on his arm.

* * *

As the three men approached the outskirts of the city of Amarillo on foot, they quietly observed the ghostly atmosphere, knowing the people who were inside were likely in hiding to avoid looters and thugs who would steal resources. Armed with fresh food that was safe to eat, Cyrus tilted his head toward the town, urging Shilah and Eric to follow as they sought a trade to make for fuel without revealing their association to Will.

The streets were still - Shilah clutched the gas can while Eric followed behind him, Cyrus leading the way with his backpack strapped to him. "This place is quiet," Shilah observed with hesitance.

"Too quiet," Eric agreed.

"Think there's Censurians in place here?"

"Not sure, but I don't like it."

"There," Cyrus said softly, interrupting the brothers and gesturing to a fuel station that looked to still be in operation, a car parked in front of one of the pumps. They crossed the distance to the pumps, approaching them quickly. "Alright, let's-"

"Hold it right there," a voice ordered from the doorway of the convenience store they were yet to pass in front of them. The three froze, Cyrus drawing his weapon.

"I'm armed," Cyrus warned, holding his gun out.

"So am I," the voice warned back.

Can't be a Censurian, Cyrus thought quickly. They wouldn't hesitate - they'd just shoot. "All we want is some fuel," Cyrus explained, keeping his gun aimed ahead.

"And all we want is a ride," the voice replied after a pause.

Cyrus' brow wrinkled. "A ride?" he murmured mostly to himself. "Can't give you a ride without fuel, mate," Cyrus said to the person he couldn't see.

"Can't give you fuel without a ride," the voice said back.

"Alright, enough of the Doctor Suess crap, yeah?" Cyrus was angry. "Come out and we'll see what we can do for you."

It was silent as Cyrus, Shilah and Eric waited to see who would come through the doorway, each holding their breath in anticipation. Slowly, the door opened, a tall man built like a linebacker accompanied by a much smaller younger man with thick glasses. "You're Cyrus, right?" the man asked, seeming just as confused as Cyrus was at the question. The tall man lowered his gun, though his doubt matched Cyrus'.

"How in the bloody hell did you know that?" Cyrus snapped, raising his weapon. "You're one of Zeke's boys, then?" He was fuming, on edge as he looked at the man in front of him, the sun glinting off of the man's glasses.

"Easy," Shilah said quickly, lowering Cyrus' arm that bore his weapon. "He's not an enemy."

"You know him?" Cyrus asked, tensing his arms and hands on his gun.

Eric nodded, continuing to push Cyrus' arm down. "He is a friend," he said with a nod to the man.

"You should've told me you both were out here," Walter Skinner said with a relieved sigh.

"Didn't know it was you. We don't have the privilege of entering minds like William," Eric teased.

"And you are ...?" Cyrus asked, still feeling frazzled as he looked down at the smaller young man with Skinner.

"He's Walter Skinner," the young man said. "I'm Gibson Praise."

"Gibson Praise ..." Cyrus mulled over the name in thought, it sounding familiar.

"I'm Mulder and Scully's former boss," Skinner explained. "He's a friend."

"I'm like William," Gibson offered. "That's how we knew you'd be here."

"Come again?" Cyrus asked.

"I was able to locate Mulder and Scully to this point. Then I heard them thinking about you coming here. Them and another woman. She's a human too. She's angry at you."

Cyrus frowned. "The other woman ... the one who's angry ..."

"Christina."

"Yes. Why is she angry at me?"

Gibson was quiet. "You probably don't want me to say out loud," he offered.

With a deep breath, Cyrus tucked his gun away. "What are you two doing out here?" he heard Shilah ask.

"We were trying to reconnect with William," Skinner explained. "Gibson knew he was planning to rebel, so we set out to find him. We come bearing supplies." Skinner stepped back into the convenience store, dragging out a duffel bag. "Magnetite bullets and some food we could find that's clean. Our car broke down here at the station but luckily the station still had gas. We pulled as much as we could in anticipation of your arrival."

"I wasn't sure if it was you both," Gibson said, looking at Eric and Shilah. "Not until you came closer."

"What's your connection in all this?" Skinner asked Cyrus.

"I'm Caraline's brother," Cyrus replied with a bit of stiffness, sizing Skinner up quietly.

"Brother?"

"That's right."

"But ... your accent ..."

"Born and raised in Brisbane, mate."

"But I thought she was an only child."

"Yeah, well our old man wasn't the most honest of people when it came to his extra curriculars."

Skinner nodded in understanding. "I see."

"You're a Shield," Gibson noted to Cyrus.

"How did you know?" Cyrus asked, curious.

"I can't read your mind."

"Well, that's a relief," Cyrus said as he examined Skinner and Gibson. "Anyway, I'm just grateful for you lot being allies. We should be able to shove them in someone's car, yeah?" he asked Shilah and Eric.

"He can ride with us," Eric offered. "We've got the extra bench seat."

"Perfect." Cyrus gripped the heavy bag Skinner had dragged out, slinging it over his back, adjusting to the weight of it. "Right then, shall we head back?"

"I'll get the cans," Skinner said, gripping the two full gas cans while Shilah toted his empty one behind him back to the cars.

The five moved quickly, wanting to put the city of Amarillo behind them once and for all. It was Gibson's pause that made Skinner immediately stop. "What is it?" Skinner asked Gibson, knowing there was something to be concerned with from the way Gibson's body was so still.

"Come on," Cyrus called back impatiently, "we haven't got time for delays."

"Wait!" Skinner interrupted; Cyrus turned, analyzing Gibson. "What is it, Gibson?" he asked the young man again.

"They're here," Gibson whispered.

"Who?"

"The Censurians."

"Shit!" Cyrus breathed. "Where?"

Before Gibson could answer, they began to hear the thunderous roar of multiple military vehicle engines in the distance, the offensive and distinct wail of the Censurian sirens blaring only blocks away.

"Nevermind," Cyrus answered, shoving Gibson forward. "Let's go. Now!"

The group darted off toward the outskirts of town, Cyrus keeping an eye over his shoulder as he stayed at the back of the pack, urging the others on. The siren noises grew louder with each step they ran, seeming to zero in on their location with ease. "Bloody hell!" Cyrus mumbled. He thought he would be at least strong enough to shield the humans that were near him.

What none of them realized until it happened, though, was that it wasn't them the Censure was after. As the sirens stopped abruptly, Cyrus paused mid-gait to listen to what was happening just out of their sight. He ducked under cover, convincing the others to go ahead to the short distance of the cars. "Go!" he ordered in a whisper, seeing Shilah's hesitance. "Go, I'm right behind you!" Reluctantly, Shilah left; Cyrus' gut told him to stay, but he couldn't figure out why.

His clear blue eyes focused on the scene in front of him, the weight of his gun in his hands as he squatted down and observed the raid. Three large Censurians manning a rather medieval looking rod rammed down the building's door, several more navy blue troops pouring in with automatic weapons raised. They were barking, shouting at people he couldn't see inside to freeze, to raise their hands, to get on their knees as they filled the building. A sick feeling rushed over Cyrus when he heard a piercing cry of an infant, who was obviously startled by the intrusion.

He quivered in anger and disgust as he watched the outside of the building breathlessly, toying with what to do in his mind. It was clear the Censurians were looking for Will, knowing he was nearby. Was Cara's shield not enough? Or were they out for someone else all together?

Cyrus swallowed, his heart stopping when he heard the blast of a weapon firing. More screams from the infant rose from the building, murmured shouts from the Censurian dogs who began tossing people out onto the street. The picture became clearer as Cyrus saw the civilians who were lumped together, one by one on their knees on the dirty barren streets. _Barter system. These people are being punished for their will to live._

One man rose above the rest, a younger man that was somewhere between his age and Shilah's. He shouted to the Censurians about freedom, life, poison and lies. Instantly, Cyrus feared for him, observing the way the lead guard looked at another with a stiff nod - unspoken communication that still spoke volumes.

It quickly became more than Cyrus ever wanted to see, the man who was nameless to him being killed in front of the others because of his strong will, he shot in the head with precision and lack of humanity. He held his breath, stunned and enraged. His eyes flicked over to a woman who shook with grief. Her husband, maybe. Her boyfriend. Brother, even. It didn't matter, the relationship was unimportant. The Censurian had won - the woman, whoever she was, had lost so much in such a quick instant, but yet she was denied the right to grieve from utter terror the Censurian had imposed upon her.

He knew bursting from behind cover would be sure suicide, but Cyrus wouldn't allow anyone else to be killed. He'd rather die than watch another execution of an innocent man. As he was about to bolt from cover, he froze, confused by the Censure's next move. More navy blue troops, these armed with large white packs across their backs, approached. As if their arrival was signal enough, the other guards surrounded the people they had flushed out of the building, strapping masks they carried over their faces. "What the hell ..." Cyrus barely whispered, his eyes widening as the guns were pointed into the crowd.

The guards with packs withdrew long hoses from their equipment, aiming the trunks of each toward the herded and trapped people. A white substance began to flow from the pipe; Cyrus drew a breath and immediately held it, his lungs protesting as he watched the people be forced to breathe in the chemical or risk being shot. What was it? Would they die from it?

After a short moment, the spraying ceased and the guards tucked the hoses back into their holders, keeping their masks on. Cyrus was surprised when the guards stepped away - the people were still very much alive, but appeared docile, almost sedated. When the cloud of white faded, Cyrus released his exhale with relief.

"Kneel!" the lead Censurian growled, his voice loud enough to clearly carry to where Cyrus was hiding. Cyrus watched in disbelief as the people sank to their knees without a single expression on their faces. The people, even the infant who had been wailing, became like a group of drones, robotically moving without any sense of independent thought. "You deserve to die," the lead guard ordered, eying the people. His tone was firm; Cyrus realized the people were being brainwashed, each under a state of hypnosis that left their minds impressionable. "You will pay penance for your crimes through your loyalty to the Censure."

The lead guard nodded toward the building. "Burn it," he ordered. Immediately, bursts of flames were lit from torches carried by other troop members, smoke rising in wafting clouds as the white-hot heat destroyed the people's home and safety.

Leaving the building to burn, the Censurians filled their vehicles once more and drove off, the people still on their knees in blankness. When he was sure the guards were gone, Cyrus darted out to the group, breathless when he reached them. The people slowly stood, their eyes moving from him to the burning building in an eerie unified wave. "Shit," Cyrus murmured, trying to grab the people and stop them as they walked toward the fiery blaze. "Stop!" he begged. "You can't-Stop! HEY! STOP! DON'T! STOP!" He was shoved aside by the people, knocked out of the way as they marched toward the fire. "NO!" Cyrus shouted, seeing them enter. He knew he was too late, though, as he pleaded with them. "DON'T! STOP!"

He nearly threw up as he realized he was powerless to stop the people from burning themselves alive, each brainwashed into killing themselves for simply wanting to live. "Fucking zombie drug!" Cyrus growled as he reluctantly fled, the building beginning to collapse as the flames ate away at the integrity of the structure, the burning frame falling down in bits onto the street.

* * *

Cyrus wasn't in any particular hurry as he walked back to the cars. His heart was burdened with what he had witnessed, what Will didn't yet know was being done to the people he was trying to protect. It was too much to bear - innocent people tricked into horrific deaths because of their desire to survive. The Censurians were monsters, devils, demons constructed from pure evil without souls or remorse.

With a slump, Cyrus sank into the seat of the SUV he was riding in, slamming the door as he shut his eyes. "Where the hell were you?" Mulder demanded out of concern.

"Drive," Cyrus ordered. "Just drive!" Cyrus snapped when he saw Mulder's hesitation.

"Are you alright?" Scully asked.

"Fine."

"Cyrus, what happened?" Scully's eyebrow was arched in confusion.

"Later," Cyrus replied bitterly. He turned to Mulder. "Just get us on the road, mate. Please."

With worry, Mulder picked up the radio and called over to Will. "He's here. Let's go."

As the caravan hastily sped off, Cyrus shut his eyes and rested his head against the back of the seat. He didn't resist Christina's gentle, hesitant touch over his hand that was pressed flat into the seat next to him. "What did you see?" she whispered, her grip tightening on him as she saw how pale he looked.

Cyrus moistened his lips, drinking in deep breaths of clean, pure air. "The absence of humanity," he whispered.


	4. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Oklahoma City, Oklahoma  
8:12 PM CST

The motel lot wasn't lit when they pulled up twelve minutes past curfew after speeding on Interstate Forty for nearly three hundred miles. No one expected there to be any staff on hand to greet them, given the state they had found Amarillo in. With the cars parked out of sight and a quick check inside the rooms they selected in a row on the ground level, Max's input helping to put everyone at ease, they quickly said their goodnights and parted ways. Shilah and Eric tended to their families while Cara and Will got Max and Emma settled for a quiet night in.

Emma froze midway to the room Will had selected for them, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "What is that smell?" she asked, her lips pursing.

Cara knew but didn't answer. The adults all had smelled it and recognized it the instant they stepped out of the cars - there was no choice, though. Any more time spent on the road would surely get them followed by Censurian patrol. "Don't worry about it," she whispered, ushering the girl into the room that was fortunate enough to be smell-free.

"It's dead, rotting bodies," Max announced, intending to gross his sister out.

It worked. "EWWW!" Emma shrieked. "GROSS!"

"Maddox William!" Will snapped, taking his son's arm. "First of all, there is no reason or excuse to disrespect the dead." He saw how Max's eyes fell to the ground. "Secondly, no taunting your sister."

With a mumbled apology, Will led his son firmly into the room. Cara didn't intervene - though she knew Will was a bit on edge from the day, she agreed with her husband and his decision to discipline their son. "Come on, Emma," she urged the girl quietly, feeling the tense hesitation in her daughter's body. "Emma, it'll be alright. Come on. It's better in here."

The girl was relieved when her mother was right, the shut windows locking out the stench. Unfortunately, the heat of the day was trapped inside the habitable rooms because of it, everyone groaning inwardly as they prepared themselves for a still, hot night's sleep. "We've got power," Will noted with a positive attempt. He flicked on the single overhead fan, cranking it into high gear. "Thermostat isn't working, though," he noted with a sigh.

"Well," Cara said as she set up sleeping bags on the floor, "at least we have the fan."

"The water works!" Max announced.

"Don't drink it!" Will ordered.

"I know, I know."

"Emma, can you help your mother cleanse some water for everyone to drink tonight?" Will asked as he helped Cara set up the sleeping quarters. "Emma?" he asked again, confused as to why he didn't hear his daughter respond. "Where is she?" Will snapped in a panic. "Max! Where is your sister?"

"She went next-door," Max said casually as he came out of the bathroom in a pair of sleep shorts sans shirt.

"Next-door?" Will said with confusion. His face changed when he realized what it meant. "EMMA!" He tore past Cara, who was readying some small food items for them to eat for dinner. "I said no alone time!" Will shouted, swinging open the door. Cara groaned when Will slammed the door shut behind him, knowing in a few moments her husband would be heard screaming despite their need to remain discrete.

She winced when she heard Will through the walls yell, "EMMA KATHARINE MULDER! YOU MARCH YOUR BUTT RIGHT NOW BACK TO OUR ROOM! RIGHT NOW!"

"MOM!" Emma complained when she got back to the room.

"In here," Cara ordered, supporting her husband though her tone was far gentler. "Now."

"But Mom! You said before we left this morning that when we got to the motel, I could eat with River's family!"

"Your father doesn't want you alone with River right now."

"But why?!"

"He wants to talk to River."

"But-"

"No more 'buts', Emma," Cara interrupted.

"It's not fair!" Emma moaned dramatically. "I wasn't even going to be alone with River!"

Cara simply didn't have the energy to deal with the situation. She knew there had been a lack of communication between the parents, and Emma was right when she said it wasn't fair. "Listen," Cara began gently, seeing her daughter's frustration, "I'll talk to Daddy later about it, okay? But in the meantime, you need to stay here and get ready for food and bed."

With an exaggerated huff, Emma headed for the bathroom, passing her brother on the floor, who was reading his comic book nonchalantly. "Are you done eating?" Cara asked Max.

"Yeah," Max replied. "I'm still hungry, though."

"I know, baby," Cara murmured. "But we've got to ration our supply."

"Mom," Max said softly, putting his comic down, "when we get to Virginia, is there going to be more food?"

It was such an innocent question, one that left her stumped. Max was touted as the answer, a miracle, a superhuman boy capable of things beyond normal understanding. Yet, he was just that - a boy. A boy with real questions and concerns, a boy with a limited understanding despite his power, an innocent boy.

It seemed to her the most inhumane thing in that moment, the prospect of Max or Emma stopping the dangerous war that had been waged. They were only children. They shouldn't have such a burden on their shoulders. They should be kept innocent, free from knowing how dark, cruel and twisted it all really was.

"I don't know," Cara finally replied, hearing Will enter back into the room. "I sure hope so, though."

* * *

A few doors down, Mulder was stripping off his shirt with a weighted sigh. "Hey Scully," he said toward the bathroom door, "you alright in there?" She had shut herself into the bathroom under the premise of taking a shower to relax her nerves, but he hadn't heard the water run in the last nearly twenty minutes. He wasn't sure if it was a question he should even be asking, considering all of the possibilities that could occur in the particular room she was holed up in. However, something didn't feel right.

"Fine, Mulder," he heard her reply softly.

Immediately, Mulder stood, making his way to the door. It became clearer to him her current state, her sniffles apparent only when he hovered right outside of the bathroom. "Dana?" he asked gently, his hand hovering over the knob with reluctance. "You know how much I hate that word coming from you," he reminded in a teasing tone, hoping she would realize he knew what she was trying to keep hidden.

"I can't, Mulder," Scully sniffed with a gentle exhale.

"You can't what?" he asked.

"I can't ... I just can't talk right now."

_William_. It had to be. The reality of what her son, her baby boy, was doing had finally sunk into her. The role Will played as Jesus Christ in the apocalyptic world they now resided in was too much for her loving spirit to bear, she an unwilling Mary whose devotion to her son knew no bounds. However painful it was for him to realize, he was Joseph in this story - everything a father could be, should be, but still unable to prevent his son's true purpose from coming to pass. He couldn't interfere, and neither could Joseph. Perhaps that was why Joseph's voice had become so quiet after the story of the birth, much like his own. Mary was present at the foot of the cross under her bleeding son - but where was Joseph? Dead? Alive and afraid?

Talking wasn't necessary - he told himself that as he twisted the knob open against her silent protest. Her tiny frame was hunched over the sink, a cheap cotton towel in hand that had been used to dab tears away. His Mary was far from unafraid, much like he wanted to believe any mother would be in the situation their child was in.

If she didn't want words, he wouldn't use them. He respected that. Instead, he enveloped her from behind, pressing against her as he simultaneously drew her away from the harsh edges of the counter into himself. He considered consoling her; he considered gentle words of love and assurance. He considered kisses along the warm skin of her neck that he nestled his lips into. It all failed him, though. Every knightly act faded from his ability as he braced her, she quaking in an eruption of pained sorrow as he had never seen before.

"Our son ..." her voice trembled through her tears. "Our son, Fox ... Our son ..."

Her use of his first name felt foreign to his ears - in this context, it was painful and real. She usually reserved the single syllable title for intimate moments in the dark, when calling him Fox seemed only appropriate to his loving whisper of "Dana." When she said it, it normally felt like the breath of relief that someone who had been forced to keep their identity secret experienced after hearing their real name uttered in tenderness. Now, it was a razor sharp knife in his side, piercing him, reminding him of his own humanity and of his own vulnerability. Fox was a child, ignored by parents who seemed to forget him. Fox was a young adult whose brilliance took him across the ocean, as far away from his parents as he could go. Fox was once a husband, a man devoted to another who was anything but devoted to him. Fox was a joke, the laughing stock of a government agency, a target for his peers. Fox was hidden, only appearing briefly in curt introductions when necessary, apologized for when people questioned the choice his parents made.

Despite that Fox had become a lover, a confidant, an alibi, a safety zone and a sensual creature, the sting of Fox being a father - a father soon to lose his only son - joined the other conjurings, culminating into an overwhelming brew of failure. Fox couldn't protect William. Fox couldn't stop the future from coming. Fox couldn't fight it alone, saving the burden for himself. Fox was powerless, Fox was weak.

He considered correcting her; he thought of how she might react at the suggestion. Instead, he let himself be Fox and be weak - the weakness, he realized, was a source of strength for the terrified Dana. She drew in his sorrow, their grief melding together in unified fright.

Each step they took to Golgotha was harder than the one before it.

* * *

1:44 AM CST

Cyrus couldn't sleep, though if he was being honest he hadn't truly bothered to try. The isolation of having his own room was both a relief and a curse, the solemn darkness allowing him space to separate himself. Yet, he didn't want to be separated from anyone - not after what he witnessed today that he managed to convince Will to listen to tomorrow morning when they were all fresh and gathered for breakfast.

He, too, had sealed his windows in an effort to keep the ungodly stench of decomposing flesh from his nose. There was no telling how many people had died within the motel rooms they hadn't opened, only coming to learn the awful truth of the presence of the bodies through an unfortunate discovery when selecting the rooms initially. Tainted water, or perhaps tainted food, had been the people's undoing, no signs of bee welts to be found on the body Scully examined. It was such a morbid situation; Cyrus felt painfully alive as he lay staring at the darkened ceiling overhead among the rotting flesh hiding behind closed doors around him.

He and Christina were the only two people to have rooms entirely to themselves. She had suggested Cyrus sleeping in her room, since it had two twin beds, but he refused, lying about being a "bear to sleep near." It wasn't an outright lie - in his current condition, he wasn't good roommate material. Especially not for her. He wasn't even good to himself.

The images stewed through his mind with relentlessness that finally aggravated Cyrus enough to fly up out of bed, shrug on his jeans back on over his boxers and step out of the room. He was grateful the cool night air that brushed across his bare chest had reduced the smell, the draft bringing it away from him so it was tolerable as he sat outside. As he ran his hand through his sandy blonde hair, he felt how unkempt it was from his tossing and turning he had done for hours now. It didn't matter, though. All he focused on was trying to rid his mind of the horrific images that plagued him from that afternoon in Amarillo.

Christina's presence was painful and soothing, the vitality of her lingering perfume drifting on the night air toward Cyrus. It made him shudder; it burned him, but the pain of it felt oddly good. "You shouldn't be out here," he commented, his eyes fixed on the parking lot ahead of him and the wide, open landscape shrouded in black beyond it.

"Why not?" she challenged, stepping closer.

He didn't move. "Because you're wasting your time."

"How?"

"By looking for answers I can't give you."

He saw out of the corner of his eye that she had planted herself near him, her stance firm. The sounds of nature around them filled the tense silence. "You need to talk to someone," Christina said softly, not willing to give up on Cyrus just yet.

"I'm fine," Cyrus replied, burying his face in his hands as he rubbed his eyes.

"Then _you_ shouldn't be out here either."

He sighed deeply. "I already told you, I'm not a good sleeper."

"Well," Christina murmured, sitting closely next to him despite his mental wish for her not to, "you're in luck. I'm not either."

"Not true," Cyrus corrected. "I've witnessed you sleep like a brick over the last several weeks."

"So," Christina began with a small smirk, "you've spied on me sleeping, have you?"

He swallowed. "I didn't ... I mean ..."

She laughed; the melody of it made him ache. "It's alright. It's not exactly like we had very private sleeping arrangements in Arizona." She paused. "In fact, this is the most privacy I've had in a while."

"Yeah," Cyrus agreed quietly.

She sighed. "I hate it."

His eyebrow arched. "Hate ... the privacy?" He kept his eyes on his hands, twisting them as he listened. He dare not look in her eyes.

"Mmm-hmm," Christina murmured.

"Why?"

"Because ... it reminds me of ... before."

Cyrus stopped wringing his hands, gaining a bit of courage to look at Christina beside him. The tone of her voice had compelled him, the sorrow that underlined her words detectable and worrisome. "You're not alone," he assured gently, taking in her appearance while avoiding her eyes. Her long chocolate bob glinted in the faint moonlight, her face that stared ahead with a freshly-washed glow. She was in a gray camisole top with impossibly tiny straps that were joined with her silky black bra straps, the brassiere only helping to accentuate the sensual curve of her breasts. The idea of knowing the color of at least one of her undergarments sent him back to wringing his hands, but not before he drank in the sight of her smooth, ivory legs clad in small navy blue with white polka dots sleep shorts, her small feet bare.

"I was," she replied. Whether she noticed him noticing her or not, her tone didn't convey it.

"I'm here."

_Sonofabitchbloodyfuckingstupid_. _You stupid, selfish bastard_. Cyrus willed himself to correct the response that seemed to escape from his tongue with unnatural ease. He couldn't, though. As much as she didn't want to be alone, neither did he.

He was undone as soon as her eyes met his. He couldn't move - he was cemented into the concrete they sat on. He saw how dark her eyes became as she focused on his, knowing his eyes were blackening with desire as well. She was so close he could feel the warmth of her lingering in the mere inches that separated them. He wanted her warmth on him, over him, in him. He wanted to feel her against him, so vibrantly alive, so tender and pure. He wanted to lose himself in her. He wanted to give her everything he had to make her feel safe and wanted.

Tried as he might to stop himself, Cyrus' left hand was flying on autopilot, it gently cupping her cheek, his fingers immediately locking themselves prisoner to her thick cocoa waves of hair. His other hand joined in on the opposite side, urgently drawing Christina forward to him with fierce demand and power that seemed to both surprise and excite her. He froze as their lips were millimeters away from each other. He could feel the soft tip of her nose against his, her silky hair caressing his skin. His shaky breath caused his lips to everso slightly brush hers; gooseflesh covered his arms at the shock and sensation of the contact, a shudder coursing through him as her own tiny hands came to rest comfortably on his bare chest.

_No. No. No. Don't. She's vulnerable. She's blind. Don't do it. Don't. Let go. Let go. LET GO!_

Cyrus snatched his hands away from Christina's face, quickly standing and leaving for his room without looking back. He would give her no explanation, he wouldn't dare to stop as she called his name in confusion. She only called out once, though.

It was still enough to completely undo him.

* * *

7:43 AM CST

Breakfast was hardly substantial but readily welcomed by the group, larger rations quietly pushed toward the hungry children by adults who feared for their health. After they were finished, a moment of necessity made Will send all the kids off to the cars to wait while the parents watched across the way from them. "We need to see who is left in the city," Will announced, the quiet from the others making him tense as they stood in a group. "It's a big place. There's got to be people left." He looked over to his brother in law. "We need to know what you witnessed," he encouraged.

Cyrus was silence, the images still freshly haunting him. "They're fighting a dirty fight," he murmured softly, staring down at the gravel under his feet. "They haven't got even a hint of humanity."

"What did you see?" Mulder gently asked.

Christina watched Cyrus carefully as she stood across from him in the semi-circle they all made. She knew he was deeply troubled earlier that morning from what had happened in Amarillo. She also knew he was afraid of so much, more than he probably would ever care to admit. "They're using chemical warfare," she heard Cyrus begin. He cleared his throat.

"To what end?" Scully encouraged; she knew whatever Cyrus had seen was truly horrific and that he didn't wish to burden anyone else with the images.

"Mind control, it seems," Cyrus replied. "An air-carried chemical substance that seems to restrict independent thought. So much so that it caused nearly thirty people to commit suicide by mere suggestion of guilt."

The group was quiet; none of them expected his answer. "How was it transmitted?" Will asked, breaking the silence.

"Portable packs." Cyrus exhaled sharply through his nose in disbelief. "Kind of like how an exterminator rids pests."

"Why didn't they fight back?" Cara asked.

"One tried," Cyrus replied, looking up at his sister who was standing next to her husband. "He was shot on site. The others were corralled like animals. It was either remain in the blockade the Censurians made or be shot. None of them knew what to expect."

"How did you remain unaffected?"

"Seems as though the chemical doesn't have a wide range of reach. I saw the Censurians mask themselves just before they sprayed. I held my breath. I thought it best, considering their precaution."

"You said they killed themselves," Eric stated quietly. "How?"

Cyrus' eyes fell back to the ground. "They walked into a burning building," he muttered. "I ... I tried ... I couldn't stop them." He jammed his hands in his pockets, gritting his teeth together, his jaw flexing under the force. "If it's all the same, I need a bit of air, yeah? I'll go check on the kids," he said softly, looking up at Will. Will nodded in understanding, watching Cyrus peel away from the group toward the cars.

It was a long moment before anyone spoke, John's voice cutting through the thickness of the already warm air. "We must remain strong," he concluded with a deep breath. "We must stay unified. We must be gentle in understanding, for all of our pain will continue to grow. What Cyrus has witnessed is only a small piece of a larger picture. More awaits for the people who choose to fight. This war has only begun." He looked to Cara. "We must stand firm, knowing what we must do is right and just." John's eyes fell on Christina. "We must call upon our faith. We must uphold sacred prayer on behalf of others who do not have as much." He looked over at Scully. "We must renew our hope - we must not lean on our own knowledge." He glanced up at Mulder. "We must continue to stand behind our brothers and sisters. We must not hide from the risk of vulnerability." He then turned to Will. "You mustn't allow the Trickster to whisper in your ear. For there will soon come a test of your resolve. You must resist his lies. Your voice must be greater than anyone else's in order for the people to listen. If the Trickster speaks louder, many more will perish."

* * *

8:36 AM CST

Will was cautious as he led the caravan into the heart of the city, though he was relieved to see a bit of activity through the scurrying of people in alleyways as they passed. With a deep breath, Will pulled into an open area where the other cars followed him, the vast parking lot littered with garbage and tumbleweed. "So now what?" Cara asked as he parked the car, pulling the keys from the ignition.

"I guess it's time to do some preaching," Will joked half-heartedly.

"Daddy, people didn't want to kill Jesus right away," Emma observed.

Will nodded. "You're right. They didn't. But we've got to believe that some people here don't want to kill me, either."

"Should we open with some miracles?" Cara mumbled, the humor not doing much to quell her fear.

"We could change contaminated water into clean water," Will offered.

"But if everyone is hiding, who would see it? Who would even believe it anyway?"

Will moistened his lips. "Let's find someone who wants to believe," he concluded, exiting the car. His departure became a cue for the others, everyone besides John, Rebecca, Sarah and their children following him. River was the exclusion, not wanting to miss out on what was happening as he followed alongside Shilah, his eyes flicking over to Emma with a smile. Cara caught her daughter's reciprocating smile, the innocence and warmth of their childhood affection stirring hope deep inside of her.

They seemed to walk the streets for nearly a mile until Will caught sight of a scruffy man crouched against a brick wall. He smelled of urine and sweat, the hot air accentuating each scent. "Sir?" Will asked gently, approaching him alone after instructing the others to stay back.

"I told 'em before, I ain't doin' nothin'," the man insisted with a hoarse growl.

"I don't want you to do anything," Will murmured, catching the man's eyes.

"Who in the hell are you?" The man's eyes fell on the group behind him. "You a traveling act or somethin'?"

"I'm just here to help."

"Well I ain't needin' help, so beat it."

Will took a deep breath. This was harder and more awkward than he thought. "Sir, I-"

"Leave me alone!"

Will nodded, backing away toward Cyrus. He fished out a small ration of bread and a bottle of clean water, bringing it back to the man. "Be safe," he said as he left the tokens behind.

The man looked down at the bread and water, his weathered brow furrowing. "Why you givin' me food?" he demanded, making Will stop in his tracks.

"Because you need it," Will replied. "Don't you?"

The man looked Will in the eyes, quiet as he took him in. "What's your angle? What is it you want?"

Will shook his head. "Nothing but your trust."

"My trust?"

"Yes," Will nodded. "That's it." He looked to the group. "Come on, let's go." He gathered his family and friends, they moving along and nearly out of sight from the man before he froze.

"Hey!" the man shouted. Will turned back around, looking at the dirty man who clutched the bread that had a large bite taken out of it. "I think I can find you more trust, if you've got more bread."

Will's smile was slight and soft. "I do."

* * *

It wasn't long before a small crowd had gathered back at the parking lot, people trying to blend into the surroundings to avoid being suspicious to any Censurian pilots who might be overhead. The group spent much time cleaning water, Emma gently touching multiple containers and bottles as she softly sang. The rest focused on handing out rations of food they could afford to give away, John encouraging them to step out on simple faith that their own needs would be met.

There were a few skeptics who had gathered toward the back of the crowd, each intent on heckling Will as he tried to speak to the people. "What, you think you're Jesus or something?" one shouted with a mocking laugh.

"You do have a Jew nose though!" another added with a snicker.

"It's up to you whether you want to trust me or not," Will replied, his eyes falling on his naysayers. "And no, I don't proclaim to be Jesus, or Mohammad, or anyone like that."

"Then who are you?" another man demanded.

"William Mulder," Will said proudly, an audible gasp rising over the crowd.

"You're a baby killer!" one woman screamed.

"No, I-"

"He burned people alive!" another man shouted, yells of anger against Will from the crowd following.

"No, listen-" Will tried to stop them, but their accusations kept growing.

"He's a rapist!"

"He's a thief!"

"He's a monster!"

"He's a freak!"

"WAIT!" Cyrus screamed, silencing everyone. "Give the man a chance to defend himself!"

"What are you, a disciple?" one of the original naysayers taunted.

"LISTEN TO HIM," Cyrus yelled back, his fierceness quieting everyone, even Will. "FOR GOD'S SAKE, LISTEN TO HIM. IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIVES, THEN SHUT YOUR MOUTHS AND HEAR WHAT HE HAS TO SAY!"

There was an incredible hush; Cyrus' temper seemed to work for them in this instance. Will took a deep breath. "Is anyone here hurt?" he asked loudly, the crowd not responding. "Is anyone sick?"

Will waited; he waited for what seemed like forever, only the shuffling of feet to be heard. "My son," a woman finally said softly, her spouse seeming to protest. "He's sick from the water."

_Shit_, Will thought. _Max and Emma can't cure the virus._ "Where is he?" he asked anyway, faking his confidence.

"Will," Cara whispered to him, "what are you doing? The kids can't-"

"He's hidden," the woman replied, stepping forward.

"Take me to him," Will said gently. He began to follow the woman before Cara grabbed his arm tightly.

"Will!" Cara begged in a hushed tone.

"We've got to try, Cara," Will reasoned privately to her.

"If you fail, they will kill you, Will."

Will looked back at the woman, the desperate hope in her eyes paining him. "Then I guess I can't fail, can I?"


	5. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Cara was frightened as they came to the place the woman led them to in anticipation of her son being healed. Cara knew she feared for many things, the fate of the boy included in them, but her predominate fear was for her husband. His risky choice to try to help a boy they most likely couldn't weighed on her, knowing utter chaos and anger would rise from the people should he fail. She was sure they would blame him, the lies fed to the people from the Censure most likely to win out if the truth couldn't.

Will didn't allow everyone to come inside the room, Cara, Cyrus and the children the only ones permitted or able to truly fit in the meager space. Mulder, Scully and Christina waited outside, their eyes peeled for Censurian patrol units. Will had sent back Eric, Shilah, River, Skinner and Gibson, managing to convince them they were best off to return to the vehicles and wait for their return.

The boy couldn't have been much older than Max, though they still had a hard time determining how old the twins actually were. He had blonde hair that accentuated his paleness, his slight body still on the mattress in the tiny room. "Jimmy?" the woman whispered. "This man says he can help you."

As Will began toward the boy, Max grabbed his shirt quickly. "Dad," Max whispered, his father looking down at him. "Dad, he doesn't have good thoughts."

Will nodded. "I'm sure he just isn't well," he confirmed in a soft tone, keeping the conversation low to avoid being overheard. "He's sick, Max."

"No," Max whispered. "He's not sick. He's evil."

Will swallowed, keeping his back to the woman and the boy. He knew better than to ignore a warning from his son, especially after his revelation of being able to see in the future. "Listen to me," he murmured, "take your mother and sister outside. Tell Grandma and Grandpa to go, okay?"

"Dad-"

"Do it, Max," Will ordered in a whisper, squeezing the boy's hands. He didn't know what Max had seen, but whatever made Max believe the family was a fraud, he knew he couldn't risk his wife and children being there.

Will stood, catching Cyrus' eyes; his brother in law saw the exchange, his suspicion peaked. "Max isn't feeling good," Will said to Cyrus, his eyes locked on him with intention to convey his hidden message. "Cara, can you take him and Emma outside?"

Cyrus saw the look Will was giving him; it all happened in a matter of seconds. He could see Cara's question forming on her lips and interrupted his sister, holding Will's gaze. "I'll stay with William," Cyrus said firmly. "Go on, Caraline." When she didn't move, he turned to her. "Go, the boy might be sick any second," he urged, shoving them toward the door.

Cyrus shut the door behind himself, Will, the woman and the boy, his back to Will. He turned, eying the boy who now sat up on the bed and was staring at him. "So," Will said, standing slightly in front of his brother in law. "What is wrong with him?"

"You tell me," the woman replied, her brow furrowing. "He doesn't speak, he won't eat. He just stares all the time."

_She's innocent._ Will's eyes shifted to the boy. _He's not._ The blonde-haired boy seemed to stare right through him. _Replacement. He's been replaced. Why is he not hostile, though? No reason to be, maybe? Not until me ... Max. Emma._

Will's eyes widened, seeing the boy stand. "Jimmy?" the mother asked, confused. "Jimmy, what are you doing?"

"Listen to me," Will said, taking a step backwards, "we can't help your son."

"What do you mean?" the woman demanded.

"He's ... he's beyond help." Will held his hand out in front of him, the boy named Jimmy continuing to approach slowly.

"How is he beyond help?!"

"This boy ... he's not your son ... not anymore ..."

"What are you talking about?!"

"Ma'am," Will breathed, drawing his gun. "Please, you don't understand-"

"NO!" the woman shrieked, diving in front of Will's aim. "You son of a bitch!"

"Ma'am-"

The boy grabbed his mother, the surprise showing in her eyes. "Jimmy! Jimmy, what-" The replacement boy easily snapped his mother's neck, killing her instantly. His eyes were focused on Will while he tossed her aside with force, her lifeless body colliding with the wall.

Will aimed and fired his gun, a single round to the boy's head knocking him backward. Surprisingly, he still moved on the ground, Will forced to put another two rounds into his heart as he stood above him. "You alright?" Cyrus asked, standing next to Will; he could see the paleness on Will's face.

"We've got to get out of here," Will murmured, breathing heavily. "There's no doubt the people heard-"

"WILL!"

Cara's piercing scream from outside of the house stopped Will's heart. He tore through the house, Cyrus on his heels as he threw open the front door. Immediately, gunshots were fired at him and Cyrus shoved Will down, shielding him as they dodged the gunfire.

"CARA!" Will screamed, hearing the mass panic happening outside of the home but not able to see what was going on because of Cyrus' protection. He easily pushed up from under his brother in law and darted after the mob that had surrounded the group that was left outside. Will pointed his gun into the crowd, yelling at the people. "HEY! LET THEM GO!"

Several men grabbed him and Cyrus, Will quickly tossing them aside. More came as he bolted forward, holding him tightly as he fought. Will watched his father try to defend Cara, Scully, Christina and the kids as the mob circled around them. He knew it was the multiple gunshots from inside the house that sparked things outside, the people ready to assume Will was a cold-blooded killer. The savage instincts of the people began to dominate their reason, their thirst for revenge and justice insatiable.

Will and Cyrus watched in horror, each fighting with all the energy they could muster. "He's a killer!" the apparent leader of the people screamed, everyone else's voice raising to join his in agreement. "He deserves to die!" The people cheered again. "We will take back what he stole, we will free the lives of the people he's held captive!" The people's voiced cried out in support, the frenzied mob circled tightly around Cara and the others in what Will realized was protection, not threat like he had thought before.

"We're not prisoners!" Cara screamed, clutching the twins tightly to her.

"You're blind!" the leader argued. "You've been fooled by him for far too long to see the danger!" The leader smirked, sizing up Will before kicking him in the stomach. It hurt him, the ache digging into him, though Will was grateful for his ability to heal quickly.

"HEY!" Mulder yelled, his voice cracking from abusing it so much during their fight against the mob. "THAT'S MY SON!" He pushed against the men who blockaded them in, trying to free them from their captivity. Scully gasped as Mulder was punched hard in the jaw, his body flung back a few steps from the impact.

"Let them go!" Scully cried out, Mulder shielding her before he was grabbed and held by the mob. He fought the separation, trying to both protect Scully from the crazed people as well as aid his son.

"He's the devil!" the leader growled. "Stop fighting - we will help you! He can't hurt you anymore! Him or his sidekick." The man spit at Cyrus; it was obvious they assumed he was like Will. Cyrus lunged after the leader, who gave him two blows to his face. "They will meet their fates under Censurian law," the leader sneered, a wave of vocal approval rising quickly from the crowd.

Cyrus lifted his throbbing head, looking into the crowd at his sister, niece and nephew, his will to fight renewing as he saw their terror. He pulled against the three men who held him, receiving a kick to his stomach. He coughed, his strength only average and human unlike Will's, the blow stunning him for more than a moment. When he picked his head up, he locked eyes with his sister, his heart stopping when the other set of eyes he expected to see weren't there. "Christina," he murmured, the blood dripping from his lip. _Where is she? What happened to her?_

"What did you say?" the leader asked, grabbing Cyrus by the hair and yanking his head backward.

"I said, suck my-"

Cyrus was kicked again; he groaned, hunching over. "_What_ did you say?" the leader taunted.

"Fuck ... you."

In his fear, Max didn't realize he had stirred up the great strength within himself, the power emanating from his hands with ease, knocking down half of the mob like dominoes. The outer ring of people were stunned, looking inward at the boy with horrified shock. "HE'S A DEVIL CHILD!" someone screamed, the others lunging after him.

"NO!" Cara screamed, putting herself in front of Max and Emma, the people ripping her away from them. She kicked and flailed as she fought, two large men gripping her by her arms and her hair.

"He must die!" the leader ordered, the people cheering in support.

The danger Max was in put Will over the edge, his own power bursting from himself, taking down the threats to his family and simultaneously causing him much pain. "RUN!" Will yelled to Cara and his parents, freeing Cyrus and taking off toward them. Will was able to keep the people down with much energy exerted as he and Cyrus were able to catch up to Mulder, Scully, Cara and the kids.

However, Cyrus stopped short when Christina was still nowhere to be found. "CYRUS!" Will yelled, skidding to a halt when he realized his brother in law had stopped behind him. He groaned in his own pain of keeping his focus on the people he was holding in an effort to save his family.

"Where's Christina? Where is she?!" Cyrus demanded of Mulder.

"I ... I don't know," Mulder breathed, stopping when he realized she was gone. In the chaos, the small young woman had gotten lost. It made him sick.

"Come on!" Will urged his father forward toward Cara and Scully despite his heartache over Christina, seeing Cyrus looking back. "Cyrus! She's probably back at the car!" He tried to be positive, his better judgment telling him it wasn't true.

"She couldn't have escaped," Cyrus argued. He saw the burden Will was carrying; he knew Will's power was only good to them if he kept his focus. "Go!" Cyrus ordered. "I've got to find her. Get them to safety!"

Will's throat ran dry. He knew Cyrus knew the timing issues. "Cyrus, if you don't leave with us right now, I can't keep them safe."

Cyrus nodded. He knew the risk. "Keep them safe, yeah?" Cyrus asked softly, his pain more than evident through his watering eyes. "My little sis. The kids. Please ... keep them safe. Tell them I love them."

"We can't divide!"

"GO!" Cyrus yelled, tearing away from him back to the mob of people.

For a moment - a moment that weighed him down heavily - he watched Cyrus disappear back around the corner toward where Will had left the people on the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut and continued toward the cars, hating himself for the choice he needed to make. In that moment, he agreed with the mob - if something were to happen to Cyrus or Christina, he would be a cold-blooded killer. He had left them to die. Cara would never forgive him. He would never forgive himself.

* * *

"CHRISTINA!" Cyrus yelled, seeing the people still on the ground when he made it back to the scene. He knew Will's ability to focus on holding them was waning, the stronger people beginning to slowly get up. His eyes darted frantically around, searching for her. "CHRISTINA!"

He stopped, his heart dropping when he saw her lifeless body half-under another person's, the frantic mob responsible for her being crushed. He moved the other person off of her, swallowing back his shock of the bruises that were forming on her face. "Jesus," he whispered, lifting her light frame into his arms. He heard the people beginning to stand, someone identifying him to the others, who scrambled to their feet. "Shit," he breathed, clutching Christina to his chest as he ran in the direction of the cars.

He knew he would never reach the group in time, not on foot anyway. He had to trust that he could somehow catch up to Will or that Will would try to find him through Max once he was able to make sure Cara and the children were safe. For now, he had to use his own cunning and his own resources. He had relied on allies for far too long - he felt out of practice, his survival instinct not as sharp as it once had been when he had no one to truly trust.

Cyrus breathed a sigh of relief as he happened upon a car. "Alright," he muttered mostly to himself, though his words were directed at the heavens, "I swear, with her devotion to you, you'd damn well better help me to get her out of danger."

He struggled to sling her over his shoulder, picking up a board he found on the ground. He swung it with his free hand at the glass of the driver's side window, multiple blows finally shattering the pane, the shards falling inward onto the seat and floor. He quickly unlocked the doors, throwing open the back seat and laying Christina down across it as gently as he could while also feeling the pressure of time. He could feel the people nearing him; he could hear their voices grow in numbers as those most thirsty for revenge headed his way.

He slammed the door, diving into the driver's seat and ripping at the plastic panel under the dash to search for the appropriate wires. "Come on, come on ..." he whispered, yanking the bundle of colorful cords from their holding place after a painstakingly long moment of fishing around. "No scissors ... no knife ..." With a groan, he bent forward and tore at the wires with his teeth, knowing his desperate move was also risky. He didn't have a choice - he had to keep going now. It was too late to go to Plan B.

The wires became exposed, and he quickly began the process of matching the right ones together, his large hands shaky as he fumbled. "Shit!" he breathed, hearing the people nearing him through the shattered window. "Please ... please ... please ..."

The car roared to life as the people came into sight. Cyrus couldn't even exhale for joy, too tense to get out of there as quickly as he could. He threw the car into drive, speeding forward directly into the people, watching them dive out of the way. He ducked when he heard the gunfire behind him, knowing it was Will's stolen gun that was blasted at him. A bullet managed to lodge into the windshield, splintering the glass in front of him, slightly obstructing his view. It didn't matter, though - Cyrus had to make it out of the city.

In relief, he finally sighed and began to breathe deeply when he was certain the threat was behind him, no one bothering to pursue him despite their lust for blood. His thoughts went to Christina, his eyes flicking back to look at her. She lay silent and still, the bruises taking on more color. He knew when he stopped he would need to examine her. He didn't know what the extent of her injuries were.

His thoughts immediately shifted to Will, to the last words he spoke to his brother in law before he left. Cyrus' heart became pained as he saw his sister in his mind's eye. He prayed they were safe as he tried to navigate his way back toward where he knew Will would be leading the others.

* * *

At the cars, when he knew everyone was in, Will jumped into the driver's seat and started the engine. "Wait!" Cara yelled, her heart stopping as she saw the absence of Cyrus and Christina in the car next to them. "Where's Cyrus?" Will's silence made her sick. "WILL!" she shouted. "Where is Cyrus?!"

"He went back to find Christina," Will replied, his stomach sick as he saw the way Cara's face paled.

"Uncle Cyrus isn't coming with us?" Emma asked, her eyes wide.

"But ... Uncle Cyrus ..." Max couldn't finish his sentence.

"We're going to find him," Will promised.

"No, Will," Cara breathed. She was shaken to her core. "We can't leave him!"

"Cara, I don't have a choice right now!" Will argued. "We'll all die if we don't leave immediately!"

"Will-" Cara's protest was interrupted by the shift of the car into drive, the wheels spinning to life. "NO!" Cara screamed, hitting her husband's arm repeatedly in anger. "NO! WILL, STOP!"

"I CAN'T!" Will yelled, his voice trembling. "I've ... I've got to protect you and the kids."

She thought she would be sick; her hand flew to her mouth to cover it while her stomach lurched. Emma was crying softly in the back seat, the tears no match for her mother's, the saline flowing from her icy blue eyes she shared with her brother. "I hate you," Cara whispered, her body trembling. Will's own tears streamed down his face, knowing the pain he had caused his wife. "I HATE YOU!" she screamed, her sobs breaking from her as she beat on his right arm, then sank into her seat.

"I've just got to get you safe," Will said firmly, though his bountiful tears betrayed his resolve. "I'll find them. I swear to you I will."

He didn't have to read her mind to know how much she loathed him, how much she resented him and wanted to beat him until her lividity was sedated. He wished she would have just continued to hit him. Instead, she killed him, made his stomach sick and his heart break with her broken, horrified silence.


	6. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

10:56 AM CST

Cyrus had stopped driving a while ago, the stirring of Christina in the back seat prompting him to find a more appropriate place to tend to her injuries. He had no concept of where he was within Oklahoma, nor did he know exactly where Will would wind up going. His decision he made initially to head east no matter what seemed to make sense. He was rewarded with a small bed and breakfast inn that looked abandoned, like most of the towns and cities were.

Putting the car in park, he exited carefully, taking in his surroundings. He needed to examine the space before risking Christina anymore than she had been already. He had no weapon - it was lost during the scuffle with the mob - so his brazen entry into the building was suicide if he was wrong about it being abandoned.

Satisfied with the seemingly empty space, Cyrus went back for Christina, who was slowly coming to. He gingerly took her into his arms, calm enough now to notice how his heart both leapt and stopped when he touched her skin. She seemed intent on nestling into his embrace, obviously drawing comfort from his chemistry. The intimacy for him, though, was pure torment, a cruel joke of fate that made him even more bitter toward his deceased father than he ever thought possible.

"Cyrus?" came Christina's shaky voice as he found a ground-level room with a sizable bed. He hadn't had many lovers, but the ruffly room did remind him of one woman in particular he once swore he'd end up marrying. Julia was as prim and proper as the decor he carried Christina into, his complete opposite. He had always been a rebel of sorts - a gentleman's rebel, but a rebel nonetheless. The attraction was initially there solely for the adventure Julia posed as such a unexplored type of woman, he used to the more brash and sultry type who mimicked more of his personality. He never got close to any of those women, though - instead, he fell hard and fast for the pristine Julia. Cyrus quickly came to learn that the closer he got to Julia, the more underbelly of hers he exposed. Julia had tainted him, ruining his concept of purity; purity didn't exist, really, because of her. He came to believe that. Since that experience, to him, there were always two things attached with love - reason and motive. Julia's reason for her love was his father's fault, but her ulterior motive to use his infatuation against Cyrus was all her own.

Christina's mere existence had challenged Cyrus' theory, her heart so seemingly tender and blemish-free that he felt himself being lured into her without utilizing reason or regard. Was Christina another Julia? Did she have a secret underbelly he would come to learn of when he was most vulnerable? He knew the insistence of Christina's attraction to him wasn't her own, but did she have an ulterior motive to use him, too?

He didn't answer her call; instead, he laid her down on the high mattress on top of the covers, removing her shoes so she could be more comfortable. He unfolded the lightweight blanket that rested at the foot of the bed, draping it partially over her. It was warm and still in the room - Cyrus flicked on the power, but failed to achieve a result. No electricity meant no fans, no light. For all its whimsical, Victorian charms, the bed and breakfast was rapidly losing points.

"Cyrus?" he heard her murmur again. He knew if he ignored her this time, he would be able to classify himself in the "true bastard" category of existence.

"Shh," Cyrus said tenderly, hovering near the side of the bed. He examined Christina's face as her eyes blinked slowly open. The bruises near her left eye and on her temple didn't detract the least bit from her beauty.

"Where are we?" she asked, shifting slightly on the bed, her foot moving as she realized her shoes were taken off.

"About two hours east of Oklahoma City."

"Where are the others?"

He felt bad for her - she didn't seem to remember a thing. "What do you last remember?"

She pondered the question, her eyes shifting downward in thought. "I remember waiting for you and William outside of the home," she replied. "After that, it's kind of hazy."

Cyrus nodded. He didn't know if he should even bother filling in the blanks. Burdening her with the information didn't seem fair. "You were in an accident," he explained.

"Are the others here?"

Of course she would be worried. Of course she would ask. Time for the truth. "No," he whispered, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He drew a deep breath. "They tried to kill William and me. They thought William murdered a boy in cold blood. He was a replacement. William had no choice. Kill or be killed."

"A riot," Christina murmured with memory, sitting up slightly. "Oww, damn. My head hurts."

"You must have been nearly trampled to death," Cyrus explained, brushing some of her hair away from her eyes with delicate care. "You were separated from the rest. I was able to find you, but we couldn't make it back to the others. I had to get us out of there." He couldn't help but let his hand linger in her hair, the silken texture addictive to him. "How do you feel, aside from your head? Anything hurt or broken?"

Christina took an analysis of herself, relieved she had nothing significant to report. "I'm alright. I feel fine. Just a major headache."

"Unfortunately, you'll have to sleep it off. I haven't got anything for it."

She didn't seem to be focusing on her pain. Rather, her eyes were fixed on his, melting his walls he had constructed to fight his desire for her. "You said you found me," she repeated, as if she was trying to put a puzzle together. "You ... You came back for me."

He tried to brush it off. "It's not as heroic as it sounds. William didn't want to leave but I made him. For Caraline's and the children's sakes."

Cyrus swallowed, his throat drying as Christina took his hand into hers. "Why are you downplaying what you did?"

"I ... I'm not. It's just not the whole knight in shining armor thing you're thinking it is."

"Why? Were you the one who trampled me?" Her tone was accusing. She was calling him out, calling his bluff.

"Of course not," Cyrus muttered.

"Then-" Christina squeezed his hand. "-take gratitude where it's deserved."

He suddenly felt hot - uncomfortably hot. The oxygen level in the open room immediately became depleted. Escape. He had to escape. It was too much. Too close. Too real. He couldn't let her become as tainted as he. He wouldn't be her Julia. He began to stand, his hand fidgeting in hers. "I'll go fetch you some water, yeah?"

"Cyrus-"

"Shit. It's all contaminated," he grumbled, his first excuse not working.

"Cyrus ..."

"Perhaps I can find a bottle dated before December or-"

Cyrus was surprised at how strong Christina was considering her size. She yanked him down forcefully, his free hand landing alongside her face on the pillow. It was once again only mere millimeters that separated them, yet this time it was her aggression that took the lead instead of his.

She felt the way he whispered her name, his breath covering her mouth. She swore she even tasted the saltiness of his lips when he suddenly broke away. Did he not reciprocate her desire? She paused, seeing his eyes flick to the ceiling. No, he heard something. What, though?

"Shit," Cyrus breathed, the panic rising in him.

"What is it?" Christina asked, sitting up a little more in the bed with the aid of Cyrus' toned arm, her grip lingering on his muscular bicep.

"Helos," he replied. She was about to ask another question, but he silenced her with a finger to her lips. "Shhh." His eyes were fixed up, his ears tuned in to listen to the pattern the choppers were traveling. "Censurians combing the area. They've got to be. They've probably been tipped off about William."

"The mob?" Christina asked in a whisper.

"Most likely."

"What do we do?"

"I guess letting Max know where we are is the best course of action."

"Can he read your mind with the distance?"

"We've got to pray he can read either one of our minds, or else it'll be hell trying to find them."

"What about Gibson?"

"He could track you, possibly."

"Maybe they already are."

"Maybe."

Christina examined Cyrus' eyes. She saw how bloodshot they were becoming. "You should rest," she urged.

"I'm fine," Cyrus insisted, trying to leave the edge of the bed but finding his hand clamped down on by Christina.

"Stay," she whispered. He felt himself immediately weaken.

"Christina ..."

"Please. Please don't leave me."

"I'll be right over there in the chair if you-"

She drew him down further. "Please stay right here. With me."

_Love, I wish you only knew how much I want to._ "I'll be back," Cyrus finally said, a moment's hesitation deceiving her into believing he might comply. "I want to go see what supplies I can get for you." He tugged his hand away, mourning the loss of her warmth. "Rest. I'll be back."

Before she could argue, he left, hating himself more and more with every step her took further away from her.

* * *

Cara hadn't spoken a word to Will since the initial shock of his choice to abandon her brother. Despite their innocence, the children remained silent, knowing any questions might trigger another explosion between their parents.

They had arrived at the rest stop about a half hour after the initially left. Will immediately began to focus on using Max's and Gibson's abilities to his advantage, hoping to gain an idea of where Cyrus and hopefully Christina were.

Mulder and Scully saw the devastation Cara felt from the choice their son had made, they each doing their best to try and comfort her while they waited. "Cyrus is resilient," Mulder insisted, chewing on his lip as he watched Cara's blank expression. "William will find him."

Cara just nodded; she didn't care to shove aside her feelings for the sake of her inlaws. No, she had every right to be upset. And she would remain upset until her brother was back with them.

Two hours later, Max finally got a hint as to where his uncle was. "Sallisaw area," Will announced to the adults who waited by the cars with the other children who were getting rambunctious. "It's about two hours east of here."

"Are they ... is he ...?" Cara's voice was shaky.

Will licked his lips. "They're alright," he replied gently, hoping to make his wife feel peace if even for a moment.

"Let's get going, then," Mulder urged.

"Daddy!" Max interrupted as they all started getting back into the cars.

"What is it?" Will asked, stopping in his tracks.

"Uncle Cyrus is thinking about Censurian helicopters," Max informed. "He said they're everywhere near him and Christina."

"Then they must have gotten word about us," Will assumed.

"Will." Cara's voice was gentler than he expected. "We're a walking advertisement for them if we go after them. We have to lay low until the patrols leave the area."

She was right, and he knew it. He also knew how painful the words must have been to her considering the situation. "Then we need to get out of sight and wait things out until Cyrus is able to give us the okay."

* * *

1:48 PM EST

"What is it?"

He hated being disturbed. There was never any good news as of late, and the pile up of bad news kept adding to his intense frustration. "Sir, we aren't able to locate him, or any of them for that matter," the Command said hesitantly, taking a questioning step forward. The silence his leader chose to uphold worried him.

"Why the hell not?!" he finally snapped, ripping the lit cigarette away from his mouth. "I expect results, damnit! He's one man! ONE MAN!" He stepped toward the Command, the evil and rage burning in his steely eyes. "Find him," he warned, dragging on his cigarette through a rush of sudden calm that seemed to claim him. He took a step back, analyzing the weak replacement who was tauted as the face of the law. "Use the Heat-Seakers," he ordered stiffly, taking another sip from his cigarette.

"They're banned ... How ... How do ... How do we cover their usage?"

"For God's sake!" he shouted. "There's a war on! You are suppose to be the protector - so protect the people, you imbecile!" He slammed the butt in the ashtray, angrily crushing it dead. "Either you find William Mulder, or I kill you." He purposely blew the smoke in his face. "Those are your options."

The Command nodded quickly, scurrying out of the room with renewed interest in the search he was leading the Censurian army in. "Pathetic," he murmured, fishing another cigarette from the box.

He couldn't wait until the job was completed so that he could assassinate the Command, using Will as a scapegoat.

* * *

Sallisaw, OK  
5:29 PM CST

"I'm bloody starved."

Cyrus sighed, his admission not seeming to quell the hunger he felt. "Me too," he heard Christina reply softly.

He allowed himself to take a glimpse at her from the overstuffed chair he was lounging in, his arm propped on his bent knee as he leaned back. Her eyes were still glued to the book she had drug back to the room, her legs folded underneath her. The denim button-up overshirt she had been wearing over another skimpy camisole had been discarded over an hour ago, the vision of her bare shoulders more intriguing than anything to him. Her shorts were barely visible, the petite inseam of the pants buried under the book that rested on her lap. He swallowed, moistening his lips. He envied that book.

It could've been him there next to her. Instead, he chose to continue down the non-gratifying path of gentlemen-hood, isolating himself on the wing-back armchair in the stifling hot room. The heat had left them both less than social, he napping for a portion of the time until the offensive creak of the bed woke him. More Censurian helicopters swarmed soon after, and he accepted that sleep had officially eluded him from his worry. The helicopters seemed to keep coming, and he knew the prospects of Will and the others reaching them today were slim. Much as no one wanted to admit it, someone would have to break curfew and travel in the dark of night. And he knew that someone would be them.

To distract himself from the prospect of the dangerous choice, for the last half hour, he chose to watch her through appreciative eyes, taking long mental pictures of her like he was on safari and she was the rare creature he had spent his life searching for. He didn't need a book - the adventure he was going on in his mind was better than any work of fiction.

In his fantasy, he wasn't afraid. He wasn't hesitant. He took the chances he was too scared to with her, and she was delighted. In his dream, he was her hero, her savior, her everything. She, to him, was the sun, the moon, the stars. The air he drew into his lungs, sweet and clean. Fresh and new. Part of him hated how foolish he had been. He could so easily have what he wanted, yet he refused to allow himself to believe that maybe - just maybe - her feelings were organic and not a byproduct of who he was.

Maybe it was him dwelling on being close to death or seeing her nearly crushed by the savage nature of people that compelled him to stand in that moment, his strides toward her purposeful and sure. Maybe it was fear that drove him to her, fear providing courage in some backward way that he dare not question. Whatever it was, he didn't care. There was a moment to be seized, a time to be acted upon. He knew it and for once, he wasn't shying away from it in regards to her.

His heart raced with boyish nerves as he ripped the book from her hands with all of the power of the alpha male he was. It stunned her; he knew it did. It stunned him, too. Maybe he took in one too many movies and as a result became a romantic at heart. Maybe he just couldn't have her looking at the white pages with black text with so much interest. Maybe he selfishly wanted to be looked at that way by her and couldn't stand the competition.

His hands trapped her wrists with ease, the thin skin around the slender area softer than cashmere. Perhaps it was the heat that drove him mad - he didn't know - but he was confident he had never been so incredibly turned on by a simple touch alone. Her eyes were doe-like, wide with surprise, wide with lust. He was hungry. Was she hungry like he was?

_Shit_. He felt it fading, slipping from him. His confidence was dwindling as she gazed into his eyes, allowing herself to be trapped by him. She didn't fight him, but his stomach still began to sink as if it were all a mistake. He was drowning, self-doubt pulling him under. He felt his fingers loosen everso slightly around her, and she must have, too.

She answered his question of what her desires were, quickly pulling him toward her. As she angled her mouth to meet his, he ducked away for her shoulder, drawing a quivering breath when he heard her sigh. "Cyrus," she begged, he now detaching himself. "No!" She grabbed a fistful of his tee shirt, clamping down on it with possession.

"I'm sorry," Cyrus murmured, swallowing. "I ... I can't ... we ... you ..."

"Shh," Christina whispered, her index finger finding his lips. She was mesmerized with how soft and full they were, each one surrounded by an ever-increasing shadow of stubble. She let her finger trace a line down his mouth, watching the way he closed his eyes in submission, or perhaps regret. She wasn't sure.

"You don't understand," he whispered when her finger freed his mouth, it coming to rest on his chin.

"What don't I understand?" she asked, partially distracted by tracing the masculine angles of his jawline.

"Don't," he begged, his eyes still shut.

"Cyrus-"

"Don't," he repeated, grabbing her wrists again with power. He looked upset; he looked like he was on the verge of tears. "Please. Please don't."

"Help me," she breathed, unwilling to stop until he bore his soul. "Help me to understand."

With reluctance, he let go of her wrists, his fingers massaging them tenderly as he sank back on the bed. "I can't ... I can't ... care about you." The words were bitter in his mouth.

It stung her. "...Why not?"

The approaching zoom of a low-flying craft bearing a far different sound than the previous helicopters ripped his focus away, the responsible side of him switching on into high gear. "Shit!" he murmured, pulling her up off of the bed. He ripped through the doorway into the adjoining suite, desperate to find the one thing they each hadn't thought of to relieve themselves from the heat, though he had no idea if it was still even functioning. "Come on!"

"Cyrus! What's going on?" Christina demanded, being yanked behind the much taller, much larger man whose icy blue eyes seemed crazed.

"Heat-Seakers!" he replied in a hurry, shoving open the Jack and Jill bathroom the rooms shared, pushing her inside and slamming the door. She gasped in shock as he lifted her with ease into the white tub with him, setting her down in front of him while his back remained to the shower head. He drew the curtain around them. "Listen to me," he said with firmness, "we need to mask our heat signature somehow. They can't know people are alive in here. We'll never outrun them."

"Water?" Christina asked with doubt.

"If it works, it's our best shot," Cyrus replied. "We haven't got any wool blankets or panes of glass lying around."

"Does the water even work?"

"We're about to find out." With hesitance, he drew her close. "We've got to make it as cold as we can stand it," he murmured, shuddering at the intimate contact of her pressed against his chest. "Ready?" he asked. He saw her nod slowly, her mouth open as he reached behind him and turned on the water, nearly jumping in shock from the temperature. "SHIT!" he growled, the water hitting his back full force, growing colder by the second. He shielded Christina from the assaulting spray, though he knew the water was making its way to her quickly when he felt her squirm in his arms.

"Oh my God ..." she shivered.

The drone of the Heat-Seeker silenced them, each clinging to the other as the ice cold water saturated them. "We should've thought of this sooner," Cyrus murmured jokingly as he pressed her against himself, trying to give her whatever body heat he could. She didn't respond; she was too emotionally distraught from the patrol of the Heat-Seeker as well as from the impossibly inappropriate feelings that stirred inside of her from the touch of Cyrus' drenched, rock hard body.

The Heat-Seeker's noise grew fainter, and finally they were left with a silence that allowed each of their hearts to relax a bit. His hands were still clamped on her, continually pressing her against him as the freezing water pelted on him. One released slowly, fumbling behind him to adjust the water temperature, the heat rising and warming both of their soaked bodies. Their only set of clothes, including his shoes, were sopping wet.

When she finally stopped shivering, Cyrus turned off the water, his eyes locked down on Christina, who continued to cling to him. "You alright?" he whispered, the water dripping from his hair into his eyes.

She nodded quickly, and he drew back the curtain. "Stay," he urged, closing the curtain to trap in the steam the warm water had made. "I'll be back." Christina hugged herself, hearing the sound of his water-logged boots pounding across the floor as he ran, quickly returning after he retrieved towels and two robes. "Here," he said when he drew back the curtain. She took the towels, running them over herself as he propped the large embroidered guest robe on the sink. "I'll, uh, leave you to it," he whispered, knowing she knew what he meant. He wasn't sure if she would want to air-dry her clothes.

Before she could reply, he left the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. Christina sighed, shivering as she pulled the wet clothing from her body piece by piece until only her panties remained, wrapping herself in the robe. She wasn't sure what Cyrus was opting to do with his clothes but quickly figured it out as she re-entered the room they had been staying in, seeing his soggy jeans hanging over the frame of the wing-back chair he was sitting in, his tee shirt haphazardly drying over a small table. He was clad in a robe like hers, and his sandy-blonde hair was darkened from the water, the tips of it drying and waving with a chaotic flare.

She laid out her wet garments in silence, reluctant as she came to the black bra. She was somewhat relieved that Cyrus didn't seem to be paying direct attention to her actions, her underwear on display the least comforting thing she could imagine after his declaration of being unable to care for her. Cyrus also seemed unwilling to pick up their discussion where they had left off, his defensive position in the chair a signal of it. With resignment, she took to the bed, this time utilizing the blankets she had forgone before because of the heat.

She stared down at the book, its pages crinkled from Cyrus' abuse he inflicted on them earlier. Christina slowly retrieved it, her eyes flicking up to examine Cyrus across the way.

He didn't look back.

* * *

Near Oklahoma City, OK  
8:40 PM CST

The day had been tense for everyone, more isolation occurring than had yet been experienced with the group. Dusk approached and overtook the motel they hid inside of, candles and matches that had been gathered during the daylight now put to use as the moon claimed its time in the spotlight.

For the children, the passage of time seemed like an entire life lived in a solitary day, each anxious with both the stagnant atmosphere. Max was more than relieved as he focused on thinking of his uncle, the idea of clear passage coming through to him in the silence of his mind as soon as dinner was finished. With a quick rounding up of the group, Will organized the reloading of the people into the cars to prepare for their illegal journey east, hoping and praying Cara's shield was strong enough to protect the entire caravan.

An hour later on the road, a stop had to be made to let the children relieve themselves, their small bladders unable to contain for the second hour of the ride. Will stood watch over them, his eyes peeled as he examined the open landscape while the boys stayed near him, Cara teaming up with Emma in the distance.

Once everyone was ready to begin again, Will stopped himself before he could enter the driver's seat, hesitating as he heard a suspicious noise. "What is it?" Cara whispered, seeing Will retrieve the gun that had replaced the one he lost that morning. He shook his head. He didn't know, but something wasn't right.

Hearing thoughts he couldn't identify, Will spun around, aiming and cocking his gun at the person he knew was shrouded in the darkness. "Whoa!" The young man became more visible, his hands up at his sides in the air. "Easy ... I'm not armed."

"Turn around," Will ordered, not wanting to take any chances despite being almost positive that the dark-haired man was human. He watched, the man complying. Will lowered his weapon as he watched the man carefully, easily entering his mind and finding nothing incriminating.

"Holy shit. You're ... William Mulder ... right?" the man asked with a sort of awe.

Will's chin lifted. "That's right."

"Wow ... I mean ... Wow." The man smiled, seeming overly relieved. "What are the odds of that?" he asked himself.

Will was confused. "What are you doing out here?"

"I ... I've been taking shelter with friends just up the way," the man gestured to the darkened distance. "We've been trying to avoid the Censure. We started riots against them back in Arizona a while ago. We've been trying to get around to different states to warn people about their lies. I was outside when heard your group. We heard about Oklahoma City."

"Word travels fast," Will mumbled.

"Yeah, but don't worry - we know you're the real deal," the young man ensured with a genuine smile. "I ... just had to come see for myself."

Will's brow remained arched as he watched the young man, skeptical of his support despite being able to verify it. "And your name is ...?"

"Right," the young man laughed. "Sorry, Harry Drake." He stuck out his hand, which Will took reluctanly.

"Nice to meet you," Will offered, still feeling on edge about Harry.

"Dad!" Max called from behind; Will turned and saw his son standing outside of the open passenger door.

"Back in the car!" Will ordered, his voice gruff.

"But Dad, listen! He knows her!" Max insisted.

"Knows who?" Will asked, perplexed.

"Christina!"

"...Chri-Christina?" Harry fumbled over the name, his eyes widening. Max felt Harry look at him though the dark partially concealed the stare. "Christina ... Harrison?" he breathed. "She's ... alive?!"

"You know her?" Will asked, feeling like it was all too convenient but hearing the real shock in Harry's mind.

Will saw even through the night sky how Harry's face grew pale, his breathing quickening as his lips parted. "She's ...She's my girlfriend," he breathed.


	7. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

"Your girlfriend?" Will asked in disbelief, his thoughts immediately on Cyrus. It was no secret that Cyrus was more than a little attracted to Christina, though he never outright spoke of the admiration Cyrus held for her with him. Christina, too, seemed to reciprocate the feelings - they were a frustrating demonstration of self-doubt. However, Harry didn't seem as if he was referring to Christina as an ex or as a past lover he never got over. To this young man, Christina was someone he thought was lost to him, only to come to find out she was closer than ever.

Harry nodded. "We ... We went to AWC together. I met her at a game we both went to." He seemed stunned, his eyes glazed over in memory.

For the first time since he met him, Will became defensive of Cyrus, feeling for his brother in law as he thought of how this development would kill him inside. "You left her," Will said, taking a step closer to the younger man in front of him, his eyes narrowing intimidatingly.

Will's body language was speaking loud and clear to Harry. "I ... I didn't know she was alive!" he defended, his hands raising to signal his non-combativeness. "I left to try to get help. They ... They said the campus burned down!"

"And you didn't think to go and check yourself?" Will retorted. His anger must have thrown up a red flag, Mulder quickly joining him, confused at the interaction.

"I couldn't get back there," Harry argued. "I ... I tried ... They said there were no survivors ..."

"What's going on?" Mulder asked.

Will didn't realize he was fuming, Mulder's surprised look confirming his visible display of anger. "Nothing," Will muttered, turning away from Harry. He leaned into his dad. "Other than I'm getting pretty tired of shitty coincidences."

Will's answer was of no help to Mulder. "I don't get it."

"Meet Harry Drake," Will said, gesturing back roughly to Harry. "Christina's boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" Mulder's eyebrow raised.

"Yeah," Will grumbled. "So what do you want, then?" Will asked Harry, his tone rougher than usual.

"Well ... obviously to see Christina," Harry replied, looking beyond Will and Mulder. "Where is she?"

"She's not here."

"But where-"

"Listen," Will interrupted, stepping closer to the young man. "I don't have time to waste. Either you come with us and we bring you to her or you catch up yourself." He couldn't help his rudeness, knowing how devastated Cyrus was going to be in a mere hour's time.

"Uh, let me go get my bag," Harry murmured, sprinting back to the house Will couldn't see from the distance.

Mulder watched alongside Will. "He's telling the truth?" he asked his son.

"Unfortunately," Will replied.

"Why unfortunately?"

Will sighed. "How would you like it if you were bringing back a long-lost boyfriend to the woman your brother in law happens to be madly in love with but hasn't told her?"

Mulder saw the dilemma. "Ah."

"Yeah."

"Does Christina ... For Cyrus ...?"

"I think so."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Damn."

"Yeah."

The two men sighed in nearly an identical way, each folding their arms over their chests. "Would either of you like to tell us what's going on right now?" Scully asked, approaching from the side.

"It's complicated," both men answered in the same drab tone.

* * *

9:21 PM CST

Cyrus' neck hurt from craning it to the side in avoidance of seeing Christina laying on the bed. The white waffle-knite robe he was wearing was too warm despite his mere boxers underneath, and he wished for a second he could just forego modesty and take it off. It would be unnecessary fuel to the fire that had already been lit, though.

He had no way of knowing when or if Will was coming, so despite the rumble in his stomach from hunger, he settled into the chair with the intention of trying to fall asleep. The constant flow of the day played back in his mind and kept him awake, though. With a day like he had today, sleep seemed to be a distant impossibility.

When he finally dared to look over toward the bed, he was relieved to see that Christina had drifted off to sleep, her small frame resting comfortably in the large robe that was swallowing her body. He allowed himself to watch her rest, a small smile playing on his lips as he took in how her lips were parted, her breath drawing through them. Her dark hair was beautifully spread over the pillow, the texture of it begging for his touch. Coward. He was such a coward. Why was it so hard to believe in love? Why couldn't he take the risk? He knew the answer. She was worth so much more than a risk. She wasn't something to gamble with.

His brow wrinkled when he saw her shift sharply in her sleep, her face showing a reaction to something she was seeing in her mind. Nightmare. He stood quietly, his concern beginning to consume him as he watched her thrashing increase in intensity and frequency. With a hurry, he moved to her side, sitting beside her. "Christina?" he whispered; she was non-responsive. He watched her mutter, the only word he recognized being "no." "Christina ... Come on, love ... Wake up ..."

With an unsure hand, he touched her covered upper arm gently, jumping when she bolted up from her sleep with a scream. "Easy, love," Cyrus whispered, feeling how tense Christina was in his gentle and distant embrace. He watched her eyes focus on his, her breathing slowing as she took in his features. "You alright?" he asked, watching her carefully.

Christina nodded quickly. "Sorry ... I ..."

"Don't apologize," Cyrus assured.

"I ... I had a nightmare." She left it at that, wanting to forget the content of her dreams but finding it hard to.

"You sure you're alright?" Cyrus asked, still holding her upper arms to steady her.

_No, I'm not alright,_ she thought immediately. _I doubt I'll ever be alright again._ The images of the men above her who tore her clothes as they pinned her against the rocks, their sinister smiles and sick intentions digging into her mind and flesh, permanent scars remaining in both. "I'm fine."

He knew better. He knew she was far from fine, but now was not the time to let her be confused with her attraction to him. He wouldn't take advantage of her weakened mental state. "Good," he replied, loosening his grip slowly.

It was her hands that latched onto him that made him freeze. She thrust herself into his embrace, her lips crashing onto his with a searing hot kiss. He hadn't realized he was too stunned by her actions to properly reciprocate, only coming to know his flaw through the worried and embarrassed look she had on her face as she began to pull away.

_Fuck it. _He was done. He was done fighting it. He blinked slowly, grabbing her into his arms, his hands taking an account of what it felt like to possess her. It was incredible. He bent down, capturing her lips into his, the kiss lighting his every nerve and sense on fire. She moved under him, she fitting perfectly within his embrace as she deepened the kiss with a soft moan. The fire was ignited, sparks flying and exploding as his tongue traced against her bottom lip, begging for entry into her warm mouth. His hands ran hungrily over her, his fingers brushing against the skin that was visible and accessible through the opening of her loose robe, his curiosity daring to push the robe from her shoulders.

The crunch of the gravel outside of the bed and breakfast made them both instantly stop, the headlights of vehicles cutting through the darkened room. Cyrus kept his grip on Christina, pulling her to stand with worry. Shielding her behind himself, he peaked outside of the window, sighing in relief when he saw it was the caravan. His head dropped, his lips still tingling from the kiss they shared. "It's them," he informed her, exhaling softly.

Hearing their approach and realizing their state of undress, Cyrus quickly turned away from Christina, modesty thrown out of the window as he dropped his robe, clad in only his boxers as he shrugged on his jeans. He heard her disappear into the other room, shutting the door behind her after gathering her clothes. He closed his eyes when the door clicked shut, angrily yanking the shirt over his head. Both pieces were still damp but wearable, the coolness to the fabrics refreshing in the summer night heat.

"Cyrus?" he heard Will call; he saw a flashlight beam cutting through the darkness through the opened doorway as he approached.

"In here," Cyrus replied.

He was expecting to see Will first, but was happily surprised to be fiercely embraced by Cara. "Oh my God," she whispered as he held her, wrapping his arms around her. She pulled away a bit, confused by his condition.

"It's not sweat," he assured with a grin, kissing his sister's forehead. His eyes went up to Will's, a sigh rumbling from his throat as he kept his sister close. "Heat-Seekers," he informed Will, his face solemn.

"I don't understand ..." Will was perplexed; Cyrus realized no one but him, probably, knew of the weapons. His time spent with contacts had afforded him some valuable knowledge.

"Aircraft with high-tech body heat sensory systems," Cyrus explained, giving Cara another kiss on her forehead before releasing her. "Usually avoidable to a certain extent with a few select precautions, water being one of them. Cold water."

The door opened behind Will, Harry appearing with a panicked look. "Where is she?" he asked, his light brown eyes wide. Instantly, Cyrus' focus shifted from his sister and her husband to the young man he didn't recognize. Harry was a dark-haired man of average height and build. He seemed young, slightly naive and incredibly worried.

"Where is who?" Cyrus asked, his brow raising.

"Chrissie," Harry replied, looking over at Cyrus. He took a minute to analyze the tall, fit man, his sense of territory rising within him.

Cyrus was confused, his own protective instincts flaring. "Who the hell are you?" he asked, taking a step forward.

"Whoa," Will interrupted, hearing Cyrus' tone. "Easy."

"I should be asking who the hell you are," Harry replied, not seeming intimidated by Cyrus.

"That's none of your damn business."

"Then neither is my relationship with Chrissie any of your concern."

"Relationship?" Cyrus asked, his brow arching.

"That's right," Harry replied indignantly. "I'm her boyfriend."

Cyrus licked his lips quickly, the title hitting him like a shot to the gut. It was then that Christina emerged from the adjoining suite, her eyes wide as she took in Harry's appearance. "Harry?" she whispered in disbelief.

"Oh my God, Chrissie!" Harry murmured, crossing the distance to her quickly and embracing her. He showered her in kisses over her face, Christina seeming to be somewhat stiff in his embrace. "Oh my God, I thought you were dead!"

"I thought _you_ were dead," Christina murmured, slowly reaching for and clinging to him, shocked and stunned.

Will tore his eyes from the scene in front of them, taking in Cyrus' expression. In that moment, he felt more empathy for his brother in law than he ever had. Cyrus' heart was being ripped out right in front of everyone, standing and staring like an audience member - a third wheel who had no business being there - and watching the interaction in cool silence.

"Where were you?" Christina asked Harry after she received a kiss on the mouth from him.

"Arizona for a while, then here in Okie with Kevin, Riff and the others," he explained. "They said AWC burnt down. They said there were no survivors ..."

"I survived," she replied quietly; she was attempting to mask the unresolved hurt she felt. "I was the only one there after you left."

"Boyfriend, yeah?" Cyrus asked under his breath. Will saw Cyrus had reached his breaking point, the anger too much for his brother in law to keep bottled out of respect. "Then where the bloody hell were you?" he demanded, stepping toward Harry. "Where were you while Christina was alone and scared?"

Harry's brow wrinkled, withdrawing from Christina to meet Cyrus' challenge. "Who the fuck are you to ask me that?" Harry shouted.

"I'm the person who risked his life to keep her safe," Cyrus sneered. "I certainly don't recall you doing that for her lately."

"Don't tell me what I have and haven't done," Harry warned.

"Why? Can't handle it, Yank?"

"Oh I can handle you. But I'd rather spare you."

"Spare me?" Cyrus mocked with a cold laugh. "Go on, then! Have at it! There's certainly no need for me to hide from a prawn like you!"

"Go fuck a kangaroo, Aussie."

Will quickly blocked Cyrus, seeing that he was ready to lay a clean punch into the younger man's jaw as he lunged forward. Despite knowing it was pointless, he felt Cyrus struggling under his firm grip. "Hey you!" Will yelled to Harry. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't let him go!"

"Let him go!" Harry taunted. "I'm not afraid of some blockheaded Aussie!"

"Hey, watch it!" Cara snapped, beginning to approach.

"Cara," Will warned, wanting his wife to stay out of things.

"You stupid seppo wanker!" Cyrus argued against Will.

"That's enough!" Christina yelled, stepping between the two men. "Both of you!" Her eyes fell first on Harry, then on Cyrus. She saw the hurt in Cyrus' eyes, the way his jaw flexed as he ground his teeth together, still pulling silently against Will though he was still. In the blink of an eye, she tasted Cyrus' mouth again, the fleeting memory enough to force her to suppress a shudder.

"Come on," Harry said firmly, breaking the silence. He gripped Christina's hand tightly, beginning to lead her out of the room.

"I'll leave when I'm ready," Christina snapped, her focus shifting back to Harry, who backed down under her words. She remained grounded, her hand limp in his.

When her eyes fell back to Cyrus, she saw him shrug himself from Will's grip. He turned away from her in anger as he retrieved the bag of supplies near the chair he tried to sleep in that he gathered from the bed and breakfast earlier in the daylight. Refusing to make eye contact with her as he walked by, he gave one final glare at Harry. "I'm going to see the kids," he stated, slinging the bag over his shoulder as he directed his words to Will and Cara despite his focus. He intentionally knocked by Harry, which bristled the younger man.

"Chrissie," Harry murmured genuinely, his eyes seeking out hers as she watched Cyrus leave the room. When she met them, he smiled softly. "Can we talk? In private?" Consumed with her guilt over Cyrus, she nodded quickly, quietly taking Harry's hand and following him outside.

"Well," Will said with a deep sigh, his hands resting on his hips, "what do we do?" He was hoping Cara had an answer, because he certainly didn't.

"I don't know," Cara whispered, heartbroken for her brother.

* * *

Harry led Christina out into the darkness of the night, the air far cooler than it had been earlier. Her denim overshirt was still in the room she had been in with Cyrus, so Christina wrapped her arms around herself to block the chill away. "You cold?" Harry asked, putting an arm around her.

"Harry ..." Christina's voice was unsure. She didn't know how to process what had happened.

"Look," Harry interrupted, "I would never have left if I knew you were still alive." She looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there. "You've got to believe me."

"Why didn't you come yourself?" she asked. She felt she had the right to ask the question, considering the nightmare she endured after his disappearance.

"I ... I couldn't," Harry admitted.

"Why?"

"Kev, Riff and the others ... they wanted to get out of Dodge, you know? So ... I didn't have a choice."

"Actually, you did," Christina corrected, feeling hurt. "You could've chosen to look for me yourself."

"Chrissie-"

"No, Harry," she interrupted. "Do you even know what it was like for me?" she asked, knowing her voice was shaky from the emotion of her words. "Did you even think about it?"

"Of course I did!" Harry insisted. "It killed me!"

"Then how could you accept another's word so easily? I'm not worth more investigation?"

"That's not fair and you know it!"

"Why? Why isn't it fair?"

"Did you come looking for me?" Harry demanded, seeing Christina back down. "No. You didn't look for me, either." He sighed. "Can't we ... Can't we just call this a miracle and get beyond the past?" His hands reached for hers, taking them into his. "All I want to do is be with you. I just want to be us again."

Us. Being "us" for them had many good moments, many happy times and many joys. But being "us" for them also had its share of trials and adversities, as any relationship would. Harry had been loyal to her, a good, honest man with a sweet heart. Here he was, not afraid to show her how he felt, not afraid to give in to his love for her. Yet, her mind was on the man who seemed to hold her at arm's length until moments before Harry arrived. Her thoughts were fixated on the impossibly sensual and erotic kiss she shared with Cyrus, the man who told her he couldn't care about her.

She could have all of what she wanted with Harry - safety, security, a traditional life of love, family and happiness. She could leave with him tonight and never look back, never think about colonists, Censurians, rebellions or wars ever again. She could forever live in hiding, her needs met by the man who seemed to beg her to move forward with him.

"Us," she whispered, the word catching in her throat.

"Yes," Harry encouraged. "Us."

She looked to the direction of the cars where she knew Cyrus had retreated to, probably codling his niece and nephew. He was a doting, loving uncle. He would make an incredible father. Judging from his kiss, she knew he would make for an unbelievable lover, too.

"Chrissie?" Harry murmured, bringing Christina's attention back into focus on him. He smiled, combing the hair away from her face. "I just noticed that your hair grew," he whispered. "I'm glad. I love your long hair."

_"You have short hair like Grandma," she suddenly remembered Emma saying to her. "But yours is dark like Max's. It's pretty."_

_"Thank you," she had replied with a smile. When she had made the decision to cut her hair, Harry initially objected, telling her that short hair wasn't a "turn on" of his. It was an argument that fueled her desire to chop her hair even more, the sweetness in her always overtaken by a rebellious streak when directly challenged._

_"Cyrus thinks it's pretty too," Max had added with a sureness to his voice._

"What's wrong with my hair?" Christina asked sharply, coming out of the memory she replayed in her mind.

"Nothing!" Harry insisted. "I ... I just wanted to pay you a compliment." He sighed. "I'm ... I'm sorry," he whispered, his head hanging. "I just really want to be with you. I want to get back to us. I want the forever we talked about ... remember?" He rubbed her arms tenderly.

She nodded. It was their plan after they graduated. They would get married, have a family and live the American life. Christina had never thought she needed more than that, but after she met Cyrus, she wasn't too sure she didn't.

"Look," Harry said, patting his pocket to indicate his phone's resting place, "I can call Kev and Riff in the morning. They can come get us. We can go wherever you want." He pulled her in for another kiss - this time she could taste the cigarettes and beer on him, her mind too scattered before to notice the familiar bitterness of Harry's mouth.

"Beer?" Christina asked, pulling away. "Really?" She was obviously disappointed. He had made her a promise, afterall.

"Baby, I got so upset after I heard about you ..." Harry pulled her back into his arms. "It's just a little brew Riff and I had left over from before shit happened." Christina didn't have a problem with drinking or people who drank. She did have an issue with Harry drinking. Harry had been going to the on-campus A.A. meetings before December, he having been an alcoholic since high school. "Look, I'll stop. I will. I don't need it when I've got you." He tilted her chin up to look in her eyes. "Please. Don't ... Don't be mad at me. Let's just go back to us."

Christina pulled away, giving Harry a small smile. "I need ... I need sleep. I haven't slept well in a while." It was a lie - she had spent the most recent nights camped out on the floor nearby Cyrus, his presence alone a comfort. Cyrus wasn't lying when he said she usually slept like a brick, though she never admitted it was because of the security he gave her.

"Sure," Harry said with a small nod, though she could tell his feelings were hurt. "I guess we're staying here for the night, right?"

She sighed. It was a huge place but felt so incredibly small in that moment. "Yeah," she replied. "There's the curfew and all."

"Right."

"So ..."

"Are we, uh ..."

"I'm going to, um, go to the bathroom." Her voice was hurried as she stood. "I'll see you in the morning."

"The morning?" Harry asked, surprised.

"I ... I just need to sleep. I'm ... I'm a bit on edge."

He was miffed, it was clear. "Fine," he said with a shrug.

"Goodnight," she murmured, kissing his cheek.

"'Night."

Harry watched her leave, pulling out his flask from his chest pocket and tossing the liquid back easily. He hadn't thought it would play out the way it did tonight. He had a different vision of Christina in his arms again without question, without hesitance. Yet, he was going to spend the night alone in a strange place with several people he didn't know.

He yawned - he was tired. He couldn't dwell on things at the present. It wouldn't be good for him to. Besides, this was something that would wash away come morning. It would all be back to normal when they woke up. He didn't need to look too much into things.

Deep down, he was afraid he might not like what he saw.

* * *

11:38 PM CST

Christina couldn't sleep. The strange room was too large and too small all at once, it both making her feel incredibly alone and strangled. Every muscle in her body was tense, every emotion worn. Every thought centered around a decision that should've come so easily to her - who would she go with when she woke in the morning, Harry or Cyrus? Harry, her mind repeated with annoyance, her body urging her to rest. It had to be. It was easy.

But it wasn't easy. Not with Cyrus' kiss still on her lips. Not with the fire he had ignited inside of her. Not with the memory of his touch or of the power of his passion. She had known Harry for years, yet Cyrus for barely two months. She had been with Harry and been happy with him, yet had no idea if Cyrus even cared to have a relationship with her. Cyrus said he couldn't care about her. Harry wanted to give her the perfect life.

It was easy. Easy. It was stupid to dwell over it for so long when the choice was so obvious.

With a gruff, she threw off the blanket that covered her in her sleep shorts and cami, grateful for Cara retrieving her bag for her before the group settled in for the night. She needed to see him. She needed to talk to him, to apologize. She needed to set things straight. It couldn't wait until morning. She needed to do it now. She owed him that much for how she had been to him.

She knew he had purposely chosen a room away from her on the opposite end of the floor, a small one at the end of the hall. With a deep breath, Christina slipped off the mattress to the floor and carefully made her way into the dark hallway, peering down at the doors toward his room. She was grateful for her light body not making any noise, her presence not seeming to rouse Will awake, which was also a blessing. She knew if anyone got wind of her presence in the hall, the entire opportunity would be blown. No, this was something to be handled in secret, in private.

She balled up her fist, raising it hesitantly, her knuckles hovering over the wood. Her feet were cold instantly in the figurative sense. Would he accept her apology? Had she done too much damage? Had her reluctance to talk to him cost her?

Before her hand could collide into a knock, the door opened, he standing in the darkness that shrouded him as if he knew she would be there. She smelled him, his particular scent both rough and sensual. She felt his presence, kind and warm, it enveloping her despite the way she was earlier. She could hear his deep, even breaths rising and falling with power and grace. She imagined the taste of his lips and repressed a shudder. He stepped into the tiny bit of light that flowed through the window by the doorway, and she was sure that if she looked, she could see his heart bleeding on his sleeve.

She couldn't get past his icy blue eyes.


	8. Chapter 7

_the music and lyrics for "Oklahoma Sky" belong to Miranda Lambert_

* * *

CHAPTER 7

Despite her best attempts to be quiet, Cyrus wasn't sleeping, so he heard the sound of someone walking down the hall. The purposely light steps worried him, he still on edge from a couple hours before, not to mention the morning they all had.

Christina didn't notice the gun in his hand at first. She did, however, notice the surprised look on his face. He hadn't been expecting her. Of course he hadn't - he had been expecting someone else. _This was a mistake._ She instantly felt cold and bare, her skin covering in bumps as she took in his chilled stare. "I'm ..." Christina couldn't finish, her voice small and weak. "I'm sorry, I'll go." She turned quickly, swallowing back her embarrassment.

"Don't," Cyrus pleaded softly, his free hand catching one of hers. His touch was more electric than it ever had been. Christina turned back to him, noticing he wasn't wearing a shirt. She shut her eyes; she couldn't see that right now. "I need to talk to you."

He gently pulled her into his room, the space lit by soft candlelight. He closed the door with a click, moving past her to rest the gun on the end table beside the bed. "This room isn't as furnished as the others," he murmured, his back to her. She watched him carefully - he seemed to be nervous. "But please, have a seat." His tone was so formal, so unlike the Cyrus she had seen only hours ago.

He cleared his throat, seeing her sink down beside him on the bed. A long space of silence hung between them, Cyrus seeming fascinated by the old-fashioned quilt on the bed while Christina traced the pattern on her shorts. She looked up at him the instant he finally spoke. "I'm ... I'm glad your boyfriend is alright." There was a forced quality in his voice. "I, uh, can't imagine ... what it might have been like ... to, uh, lose someone like you thought you did."

"It was a surprise seeing him tonight," she admitted. _Why are we talking about Harry?_ she screamed in her mind.

"Well, uh ... I'm just happy ... you'll have someone now," he muttered, still staring down at the bed.

"You're happy?" Christina asked, her tone laced with sarcasm. "Could've fooled me."

"I was a bit surprised, is all."

"Surprised or angry?"

He didn't respond; he turned his head a little to catch her in his peripheral vision. He wanted to vomit from what he was about to say. "Look, your being with Harry is no skin off my nose. I told you before, I can't care for you," he said firmly.

His harshness momentarily jarred her, but somehow she expected him to do what he was attempting to at that moment. She knew he was both a rebel and a gentleman, two opposite qualities seeming to consume him equally. He was trying to push her away, push her into Harry's arms. He was transparent in his actions, but not in his reason. She needed to know why - why he was so insistent on refusing to acknowledge what they shared, why he was so scared of his attraction to her.

"Can't care for me because you don't, or because you're afraid to?" she challenged, undeterred by his coolness.

"Damnit, Christina," Cyrus growled under his breath, turning to look at her. "Just let it go, yeah?"

"Why?" Christina asked, knowing she hit him where it counted.

"Christina, let it go."

"Tell me why, Cyrus."

"Christina-"

"Tell me."

He hadn't planned on reacting the way he did, but Cyrus' anger at himself overtook him. "Because you don't care for me," he snapped at her, his eyes locked on hers.

Now she was entirely confused. Was it not obvious to him? Was her affection unclear? "Wait ... what?"

Cyrus shut his eyes. "Please," he begged softly. "Please don't make me tell you."

"Cyrus, I don't understand!"

"You don't care about me, Christina!" Cyrus explained, his eyes opening. "You never have. This-" He gestured to the space between them. "-This isn't fully genuine. No matter what you think, it's a trick of your mind." He was rambling now, but he couldn't stop. "You don't care for me. You never have. You need to be with ... him ... if it's who you care for. But you can't be with me. I won't let you deceive yourself."

She watched how he ran his hand through his hair with a sigh; she rocked on the mattress when his weight dropped beside her. "Why do you think I'm deceiving myself?" Christina whispered.

"Not think, know."

"Fine. Why do you know I'm deceiving myself?" He shook his head, refusing to answer. "Cyrus. Please. Please tell me."

She wasn't going to drop it. He knew he was forced to reveal the thing he despised most about himself. Looking down at her hand that was pressed into the mattress beside her, he took it gently, feeling the way she suppressed the reaction. "That," he said quickly. "You felt that, yeah?" He saw her nod. "Now, don't ... don't ignore or try to suppress what you feel this time."

He slowly reached for her other hand and took it into his, seeing the way her mouth opened at the sensation. "Do you remember when I told you I had a bit of a chemical imbalance?" Cyrus whispered, still holding her hands, rubbing small circles into her flesh with his thumbs. She nodded, her lips still parted as she drank in the electricity without shame. "I ... I wasn't being facetious. I do. All Shields are like this. All Shields are designed to be attracted to their own kind. My father wanted to ensure that his race that he created would thrive. Each of us share a unique connection. It's in our genetics. It's what you feel in me." He paused, drawing a deep breath. "Because I was the first, my father didn't have it all correct. I've been cursed with a sort of ... natural magnetism. It's influential on all members of the opposite sex. Not just Shields. It ... It makes me irresistable. It controls a woman's judgment for her. It's like a thick fog on the mind." He released her hands with a sigh.

Christina drank in his words, knowing how uncomfortable Cyrus was admitting his secret to her. He was a man designed to attract women, a man who really didn't need the added help but had a built-in net to ensure the catch. A net that apparently was impossible to detect or avoid.

In the silence that followed his admission, Christina felt herself examining her history with Cyrus, reflecting on how, even from the very beginning, Cyrus had tried to avoid her at all costs. Yet, she seemed to be unable to avoid him. "I know it's a bit of a shock," Cyrus murmured, clearing his throat. He waited, hoping for some kind of reaction from her. "Please, say something," he whispered. He waited. "Please ... Or just slap me, yeah? Or shoot me. Or-"

She bridged the distance between them, on her knees as she reached over and covered his mouth with hers. She felt the spark he tried to warn her about - it multiplied, compounded and created a set of fireworks within the span of a second, but she didn't stop. As she kissed him, she nearly laughed in her mind. Here was this incredible man who literally could have anyone, and yet he wanted her. Why else would he avoid her? Why else would he try to deter her to Harry?

Cyrus pulled away with bitter reluctance, pushing her away tenderly, slowly. "Please, love," he begged. "You're missing ... the entire point."

"No, I get it," Christina answered, eying him. "Your name is Cyrus Daniel English. You were born and raised in Brisbane, Australia. You've mostly hustled for a living, though you don't have a heart for it because you're an honest person. You're somewhere north of twenty-five, though you haven't cared to tell me because you're too afraid to get close to me. Why? Because you think that any feelings I may or may not have toward you are a result of a 'curse,' as you put it, from your father which made you like a modern day Austin Powers or something. Except without the horrid looks and disgusting clothes."

"Then let's just focus on the 'curse' part, yeah?" Cyrus argued. "I mean, why do you think you just kissed me? Don't you see it? Isn't it clear to you?"

_Oh, Cyrus._ He really didn't know. He truly didn't believe her affection was as genuine as she knew it was. She stroked his cheek; he recoiled as if he had been burned. She took his hands, gripping them as she examined them. They were masculine and weathered, calloused in the appropriate places for someone who used them regularly. "I kissed you because I wanted to," she whispered. "Just like I wanted to before."

"Please let go of my hands," Cyrus breathed, his eyes locked on her.

"Why?" she teased.

"Christina ..."

"Well, I mean ... from what you said, the 'curse' only works one-way, right? So ..." She trailed her fingers up his bare arms, watching him bite his lip. "... So you should be able to resist me, right?" Her hands slid further up, memorizing the firm angles of his muscles, finding favorites among them. "This shouldn't be affecting you at all, should it?" The candlelight illuminated his body, her hands finding his wide shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze before moving down to his bare chest. "If you want me to stop, you can make me. Anytime you want."

Before her fingers could reach any more south, Cyrus snatched her wrists, yanking her forward to him. "Why?" he demanded, his voice pained. "Why are you torturing me?"

"Why is it torture if you can't care about me?" she asked back, her eyes locked on his. She saw the way he moistened his lips, silenced by her words. "Or do you care for me?"

"Of course I care for you," Cyrus replied, his grip still firm. "I've cared for you from the bloody minute I pointed a gun to your head and thought you were a replacement." He shut his eyes, a long blink his way of trying to draw in courage. "But you don't-"

"I _do_ care for you," Christina interrupted. "Me. Christina Marie Harrison. _I_ care for you, Cyrus." She smiled at him, seeing the disbelief in his eyes. "I don't care what you think, Cyrus. I'm not being controlled by anything. I am perfectly aware of myself. It's _me_ choosing _you_. It always has been. I love you." She paused, seeing the way he just stared at her. _Shit_. She had gone too far. "I ... I'm sorry, I-"

She moaned as his lips covered hers, eating her words, stealing her worries away for a moment. She quickly regained herself and she enjoyed his kiss, deep, hot and electric. She had come so far to find the love she felt with Cyrus, though. She had to know. She had to know if it was love or lust controlling him. It was as if he read her mind. "Christina Marie," she heard him whisper as his lips traveled across her cheek to just below her earlobe. "I love you, too."

Cyrus pulled himself away from Christina despite wanting to continue to kiss her, to explore her tantalizing body with his hands and his mouth. He wanted so badly to believe in what she had said to him, that it was truly her own choice, her own love for him motivating her. Most of him did believe. The lingering, doubting part of him began harassing him for the indecency of his actions. Here he was, kissing and embracing a woman whose boyfriend was just down the hall. He felt ashamed; though he instantly hated the man for his cowardice, he didn't want to put Christina in that kind of a position. It wasn't fair for her to be caught in the middle.

He held her close, his hands still wandering though he had forced his lips to stop their investigation. "What's wrong?" Christina murmured, her voice breathy as she leaned into his embrace.

"I can't," Cyrus explained, his face pained as he let go of her.

"Why?" she urged, reaching her mouth toward him. "Is ..." She paused. "Is it me?"

"Yes," he replied hungrily, leaning his forehead on hers. "It _is_ you. You're driving me absolutely _insane_." Cyrus didn't stop Christina as she kissed him, a momentary slip letting him drink in the pleasure of her. Once he came to his senses, he pulled away again, planting his hands onto the mattress. "No, love," he begged. "Please. I can't. I can't ... Not while your boyfriend is just down the hall."

"He hasn't been my boyfriend for seven months," she reminded as she stroked his cheek, too intoxicated by her natural love for Cyrus to be the strong one in the situation.

"I can't."

"Please. I don't want to be alone."

"I ..."

"Please, Cyrus. Please just at least hold me."

"If I put my hands back on you, I don't think I can restrain myself."

"Why do you need to?"

"I've already told you, love."

"Please."

"You're killing me."

"Just hold me."

"I want to do more than hold you," Cyrus replied in a husky voice that made her body tingle.

"That can be arranged," Christina encouraged, sliding her hands up his arms.

"_Bloody hell_," Cyrus whispered, sucking in a deep breath. He heard Christina laugh softly; it only added to the frustration. "You're one cruel sheila, you know that?" he said, his eyes focused on her as she knelt in front of him on the mattress.

"Really? This is me being nice," she teased.

It was one too many temptations. His will to resist crumbled, shattering as he swept her into his arms and pulled her onto his lap, his mouth melting on hers with a groan as she straddled him. She shouldn't have been surprised with his intensity or his skill as he pulled her closer to him, but she still was, the fevered pace of his hands balanced with his methodical lips hypnotizing her.

In a fluid motion that didn't take more than a blink, Christina was on her back on the bed, he hovered over her. She giggled, unable to avoid the loving reaction as Cyrus struggled to rip the blankets out from underneath her. "You think it's funny, yeah?" he whispered, shocking her by pinning her arms over her head. His eyes were alive, his smile the most beautiful thing she ever saw. "Well," he continued, as he kissed her neck, "let's see if you think the rest of it is."

_How long has it taken me to find you_  
_Five hundred years, five hundred thousand miles_  
_It don't matter now_  
_Love's always on time_  
_Meet me underneath the Oklahoma sky_

She had never felt so coveted, so incredibly desired as she did in that moment, Cyrus' eyes drifting down her still-clothed body as he licked his lips. He was a true red-blooded alpha male, reminiscent of a lion who had just caught a most delicious prey. She shivered at the way he drank her in. She didn't feel objectified, but rather she felt glorified, revered, safe, loved.

_Lightning flashed, everything went silent  
A feather could have knocked me to the floor  
Missing piece was found  
I was finally alive  
Meet me underneath the Oklahoma sky_

She was flushed as he slipped her tee shirt over her head, his hands tangling in her hair as he planted kisses along her jawline in a path down her neck. "God," he breathed in between kisses, "you're amazing." She couldn't speak, language of any kind eluding her the instant he made contact with her throat. "You're incredible. You're so beautiful."

_With the speed of sound  
I'm homeward bound_

He kept going down her body with his mouth, finding each sensitive area and memorizing her reactions, cataloging what to do where to give her as much pleasure as he could. He grabbed her hips with jolting strength, her gasp making his heart stop as he slid off her shorts. She pawed at his jeans, her hands fumbling as her muscles tried to remember how to function.

Soon, there were no barriers between them. There were no walls around Cyrus' heart as he gave himself to Christina, she offering all of herself in return. She had no doubt in her mind that it was her own heart directing her to Cyrus. He had no regrets for giving in, the joy he felt being with Christina completing him in a way he never imagined possible.

_All our sorrows swept away forever  
Each and every tear washed out to sea  
There ain't no goodbye  
With your hand in mine  
Meet me underneath the Oklahoma sky  
Oklahoma sky_

They united; she moaned his name, the letters on her lips burning into her heart with permanence. He was the other half of her soul, the very piece she had always dreamed of. She never felt so alive as she drank in his breath on her face.

He felt tears form in his eyes, a reaction he never had experienced in times before. He couldn't ever look back and he didn't want to. She was his forever. She was the epitome of his existence. She was all he lived for.

* * *

6:10 AM CST

It had been a long time since Christina had felt so warm wearing so little, Cyrus kind enough somewhere in the space of time between after they made love and her waking to redress her before passing out on the bed next to her. When she slowly woke and realized her condition, she assumed it was his way of protecting her decency should they be walked in on. Even after a blissful time of passion, his guardian spirit was still on high alert. She had to love him for that.

The last thing she wanted was a confrontation. Harry, by nature, never rose earlier than eight in the morning, and that was most times a stretch of his ability. She reached across Cyrus' bare chest and carefully peaked at his thick-banded Omega watch that rested on the end table near his gun, sighing in relief. Six-ten. Enough time to creep back to her room, pretend to wake, then deal with Harry.

There was an overwhelming sense of grief when she realized what she was going to do that morning, Christina not taking lightly the heart-breaking admission she needed to share with Harry. She was no longer in love with him - he would be crushed, she was certain. She wasn't sure if she ever truly was in love with him. She care for him, but didn't ever feel with Harry what she had with Cyrus. She, being a romantic at heart, believed in soulmates and people meant for each other. Her person was Cyrus, of that she was sure.

Cyrus was such a light sleeper that he clamped down on Christina the instant she moved away from him to leave, pressing her to his chest with his eyes closed. "No," he murmured, nuzzling his face in hers. "Stay."

"I don't want you to get in trouble," she explained, her fingers drifting over the skin of his collarbone.

"Not fair," he teased lazily, still drowsy as he opened his eyes, "I let you stay."

She smiled. "Cyrus ..."

"What about our post-coital bliss?" He wrapped his arms around her tighter.

"Harry might-"

"Might what?" He knew he was visibly irritated at the mention of the name, but couldn't stop himself. "See what he lost? See what a bloody fool he was? Be punched in the face if he tries anything?"

She eyed him with a frown. "Hey. Settle down," she corrected. She watched him suck in a breath that made his chest puff out, reminding her of a defensive tactic she observed in male birds on television once. "It's not exactly going to be a piece of cake for me, you know."

He felt bad. "Sorry."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Don't be mad at me, love," Cyrus whispered, nibbling her earlobe. "I'll cool my red-blood down, yeah?"

"You'd better. There's no reason to piss him off and make everyone else deal with it as well." She couldn't help but shake her head at his subtle grumbling. "I will handle it, but quietly."

Cyrus groaned. "Fine," he murmured, giving her a soft kiss. "But you need to promise me that not only tonight will you stay with me until we get back on the road, but you'll also let me make you rations in bed."

"Ooh, rations in bed. Now there's something I've never had."

"I'm a fancy bloke." He tucked her hair behind her ear, keeping one arm around her. "Well? Have we got a deal?"

"Deal," Christina whispered with a giggle.

"Stop giggling like that if you want me to let go," Cyrus warned with a grin.

"Why?" she taunted. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Oh I'll show you-"

"No," Christina interrupted as she pushed away from Cyrus with a sigh, "you won't."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You little minx." With pleasure, he watched her walk around the other side of the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. "Hey," he called after her in a hushed tone. "I don't even get a parting kiss?"

Christina shook her head, smiling. "Nope. I don't trust that you won't hold me prisoner."

"Hmm. Smart women are incredibly sexy."

The door shut behind her and Cyrus flopped back down on the mattress, his heart full and his cheeks sore from the smile he couldn't wipe off of his face as he laid and stared at the ceiling for a while. He quickly decided that going back to sleep wasn't an option, so he gathered a change of clothes and made his way for the shared bathroom across from his room.

* * *

Ten minutes later, he was partially dressed in fresh brown cargo pants, socks and his boots, exiting the bathroom and ready to shrug on the black tee shirt in his left hand as his right rubbed a towel over his wet hair. "G'day," he offered to Mulder, who he met in the hall.

"Morning," Mulder said, observing the obvious change in Cyrus' behavior. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah, how about you?" Cyrus slung the towel over a hook outside of the bathroom.

"Pretty good."

"Hope everyone else did, too. We need to cover more ground."

Mulder nodded, watching as Cyrus yanked on the shirt as he made his way into his room, quickly retrieving his bag and gun and shutting the door behind himself as he left it. His brow wrinkled. "Something wrong, mate?" he asked, seeing how Mulder was watching him.

"No," Mulder said with a shake of his head.

"Right then," Cyrus replied. "I'll be off then to load my bag in the car and deal out the morning rations."

"Good."

Cyrus smiled quickly, then headed down the hall away from him. _Way to not be obvious, you stupid bloke,_ he mentally chided himself, knowing his behavior was far too suspicious for Mulder's liking. Bag in hand, he continued down the hall, turning toward the formal sitting room exit when he heard a crash behind him. He turned quickly back, dropping his bag and rushing toward it as he heard another crashing sound similar to the first.

He didn't know whose room it was, but he burst through the door when he heard a third crash, his eyes wild as he stared down at Harry, who was wielding a decorative item in his hand with a scowl in front of Christina. "You son of a bitch!" Harry yelled, charging after Cyrus. The confrontation caught Cyrus off-guard and he was slammed into the wall next to the door by Harry, who pinned him with an arm tight against his throat. "You piece of shit!" he sneered; Cyrus could smell the alcohol on Harry's breath.

"Harry!" Christina screamed behind him, rushing toward the two men. "Let him go!"

Cyrus was surprised with his current state of disadvantage, his hand twisted by Harry in a way that threatened to snap the bones in it while the lack of oxygen flow made him lightheaded. Seeing Christina interfering, though, made him spring into action as much as he could, shoving Harry off of himself while he sucked in a much needed breath.

"Stay out of this, Chrissie," Harry warned.

"Harry, leave him alone-"

Harry grabbed Christina's arm, shoving her roughly backward. "I said, stay out of it."

Rational thought immediately left Cyrus upon seeing how Harry handled Christina. He lunged at him, knocking him to the ground. He was regaining his strength, but not quickly enough he realized as Harry slammed his knee into Cyrus' stomach, knocking him off of himself and onto the floor, the wind knocked out of Cyrus. Harry quickly stood, kicking Cyrus in the stomach; he groaned, hearing Christina's scream directed toward Harry. "Don't you touch her!" Cyrus warned in a hoarse voice through a cough, fighting to stand as he received another blow to his gut.

Will burst into the room, quickly assessing the situation and using his force to pin Harry against the opposite wall. "What the hell is going on?!" Will demanded, catching a glimpse of Cyrus standing up slowly, Christina rushing to his aid.

"This mother fucker needs to take a hint and leave Chrissie alone!" Harry spat, fighting against's Will's hold.

Will's eyes shot over to Cyrus, seeing how he held Christina tenderly. "No, he doesn't," Christina snapped. Harry was horrified as he saw how Christina stayed with Cyrus. "I already told you, Harry, it's over between us. I'm leaving with William and the others."

"You little bitch!" Harry yelled with sudden realization, crazed as he looked at Cyrus. "You fucked him, didn't you, you slut?!"

"HEY!" Cyrus screamed, his voice cracking as he charged toward Harry.

"NO!" Will shouted as he grabbed Cyrus' arm.

"Everyone settle down!" Mulder yelled over them as he rushed in, silencing the crazed men. Scully, Shilah and Eric soon followed, taking in the heated scene while Cara stayed out in the hall with the nervous children. "Back down, Cyrus," Mulder ordered, steering Cyrus away from Harry. Cyrus complied, his eyes remaining locked on Harry as he stood near Christina. "William," Mulder said softly to his son with a sigh, "when you let him go, he'll go right back for him."

"I know," Will grumbled.

"We've got to restrain him."

"Dad, I can't just restrain him and leave him here."

Mulder knew Will was right. "Hey you!" Mulder called to Harry. "You've got a choice. You can either let Christina leave in peace, if that's what she wants to do, or you can be restrained until someone happens to find you here."

"He can have her," Harry retorted, his eyes shifting to Christina. "She's nothing but a whore anyway." Shilah and Eric immediately grabbed Cyrus, who began to charge after Harry, enraged by his words regarding Christina. "I hope she's worth it to you," Harry warned, his eyes locking on Cyrus', "because she's going to be an expensive screw."

"Get everyone in the cars," Mulder ordered, feeling his own blood boil at Harry's warning; he couldn't imagine what Cyrus must have been feeling like. Will kept Harry pinned while the people slowly drained from the room.

Picking up Christina's bag, Cyrus gently guided Christina out of the room, wincing as his stomach and back burned from the fight moments before. Christina took a final glimpse at Harry, whose eyes burned in anger toward her. "You're nothing but a liar," Harry sneered. He looked deeply hurt.

She felt Cyrus tense, but she squeezed his hand in assurance. "If I was a liar, I wouldn't be leaving right now," Christina said softly, licking her lips as she stared back at Harry. "Goodbye, Harry. ... I'm sorry," she offered, turning away from him and walking out of the door.

Will had made sure everyone was in the cars and ready to go prior to his own exit, Harry seeming rather calm by the time he gently released his telekinetic grip on him with an awkward semi-apology. Harry chose to remain silent, Will leaving him behind and steering the caravan east toward Virginia while Harry watched out of a window with revenge on his mind.

He bitterly yanked the phone from his pocket, a series of letters and numbers spinning through his mind. The advertisements were everywhere - the Censure was only ever a phone call away to those who believed they were working on true behalf of the people. The ironically-selected three-digit code of seven-seven-seven would summon the nearest Censurian guard groups' existence, handsome rewards promised for those with information on rebel activity.

Harry pressed the seven key three times, putting the phone to his ear as he kept watch in the direction Will and the others had left. He smirked - not only did he have a tangible lead on rebel activity to barter with, but it happened to also be on the only rebel they truly cared to find.

It was an easy decision to give up Will and the others. They deserved to die for siding with the bastard Cyrus, for protecting a piece of filth like him.

If he couldn't have Christina, then no one could.

* * *

7:47 AM EST

He had been awake for several hours now, the burden of finding William Mulder cursing him with incurable insomnia. Despite his many advantages, William Mulder kept eluding him, tricking him, somehow sneaking around right under his nose. It irritated him, bothered him to the point of rage, the broken liquor bottles around him proof of his disappointment.

What no one knew, what none of his Censurian guards or even the Command knew, was that his time was very limited. He had once been invisible, strong and unbreakable. Yet, over the last several days, his body was weakening, his resilience tampered with. What would be causing such a shift in the construction of a life-form that was suppose to be unshakable? What was causing so much damage to him in pure and utter silence?

He woke that morning with the answer, one thing he never considered to be true or possible. If it were, he didn't have much time to stop what was coming. The very person he sought out was the same person who was destroying him. It was more important than ever for his army to find William Mulder. He needed to be stopped before he came any closer. He couldn't reach Virginia - for if he did, the balance of power would be shifted in his favor.

He pressed the button on the sound file he received from the Central Censurian reporting site, dragging on his cigarette deeply. He was both worried and elated that William Mulder was so close. He could taste the victory as easily as he tasted the defeat.

_"I've got valuable information on William Mulder. I will only speak to a Censurian lead in person regarding it, though."_

_"What kind of information?"_

_"A license plate number and a final destination point, as well as a manifest of some of the people he's traveling with."_

_"Hold. ... We have you located in Sallisaw, Oklahoma."_

_"Yes."_

_"Remain where you are. A Censurian lead will be dispatched to your location shortly."_

He exhaled the smoke, the gray mass slipping from his lips as they curled into a small grin. "Yes," he said, pinching the cigarette between his fingers. "Remain where you are. We wouldn't want to have to find you to kill you, too."


	9. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Trumann, AR  
11:02 AM CST

It was a tense ride for everyone, and by the time they reached Trumann in the northeastern part of Arkansas, it had grown to an unbearable level. It seemed as though as soon as cars were parked, everyone was more than eager to get out and stretch their legs.

Scully watched her son and his family while Mulder began to pump gas into the cars after a successful barter with one of the nicest people they had encountered thus far on their trip. "Why do I feel like what happened this morning is a precursor to something else?" she asked, still watching how Will spun his son and daughter around in his arms, their giggles brightening even the dullest prospects.

"Because it was," Mulder replied grimly.

"You think ... he'd ..."

"I have no doubt he will if he hasn't already."

Scully swallowed, drawing her bottom lip inward. "I knew this was all coming, so why is it still hard?"

Mulder glanced up from his task at hand, catching the view that Scully was absorbing. "Because he's our son. She's our daughter in law. They're our grandchildren."

"What do we do?" she whispered.

He didn't know, so he didn't reply.

* * *

"Hey Maddox," Cyrus called over to his nephew as he was filling Will's car with gas. "Come on over here, let me teach you a bit about cars."

"Okay!" Max said excitedly, dashing toward Cyrus.

"Alright," Cyrus said once Max reached him, "so here's where you've got the-"

"Uncle Cyrus?" Max interrupted.

"What is it?"

"Can you teach me about ... other things?"

"What is it you'd like to know?" Cyrus asked with a grin. "If it has to do with motorbikes, you'll have to talk to your father-"

"No," Max said, shaking his head.

"Planes?"

"No."

"Uh ... Sports? I know a bit about Rugby. I used to play as a teenager."

"No, but we can talk about that maybe later."

Cyrus let the pump go, crossing his arms over his chest. "What is it you'd like to know, then?"

Max glanced toward his father and mother in the distance, Emma busy chatting Christina's ear off while his parents seemed preoccupied talking softly to each other. "I want to know how to seduce a woman," Max announced with sureness.

Cyrus choked on his own spit, coughing loudly. "Excuse me?"

"Women," Max repeated, turning to his uncle. "Teach me about women."

"My God," Cyrus mumbled. "Are you at that age already?" He was moreso asking himself. "What about having this talk with your father, yeah?"

"He'd kill me."

"Well, I highly doubt he'd kill you, but-"

"Pllllleeeeassse, Uncle Cyrus!" Max begged. "And it has to be a secret."

Cyrus shook his head. "No way, mate. No secrets from your parents." He saw Max's genuine frown; he sighed. _You're such a prawn, _he scolded himself. "Alright," he murmured, seeing Max's excitement when he gave in. "Well first, let's hear which woman has got your fancy."

Max kicked the dirt and stones around with the toe of his sneaker. "Christina," Max replied softly, his eyes cast down onto the ground.

Cyrus took out the gas pump, hung it back up after capping the tank and squatted down next to his nephew. "Maddox," he said gently, his hands resting on his thighs as he looked at the boy, "I'm afraid Christina is already taken."

Max shook his head. "No, she left her crazy boyfriend in Oklahoma," he corrected with an innocence that told Cyrus that Max had learned to not automatically read minds in conversation.

"She did," he nodded. "But ... I'm afraid she's found another."

"That fast?" Max asked with a sad expression.

Cyrus sighed. "Yeah, mate."

Max eyed his uncle. "You?!" he gasped.

_So much for him not reading my mind. _"Yeah, Max," Cyrus said with a nod. "Me." Max's furrowed brow and matching frown broke Cyrus' heart. "Listen to me," he said gently, "there is a young lady out there who is meant for an incredibly smart, kind and handsome young man like you."

"We're never in one place long enough for me to know anybody," Max grumbled, his arms crossed over his chest. Cyrus could help but see the striking resemblance to his father with the position.

"Soon, this will all be behind us, and I bet things will change," Cyrus assured.

"You think so?"

"I do."

Max sighed, his arms still folded over himself. "Well," he said, eying Christina, "I guess if she's going to have a boyfriend that's not me, then I'm glad it's you."

"You sure, mate?" Cyrus asked with a small smile. "I have your permission to court her, then?"

"What's 'court' mean?"

"Date."

"Oh. Then yeah, you can court her."

Cyrus ruffled Max's hair as he stood. "You're a good man, you know that?"

Max shrugged. As Will approached them, he asked his uncle with a squint in his eye, "Can you still teach me about women, Uncle Cyrus?"

"Excuse me?" Will asked, his hands automatically going to his hips.

Cyrus cleared his throat. "Car's all ready, William," he said quickly, scurrying off as Will watched with narrow eyes.

Will turned to Max. "What did he tell you?" he demanded.

"Nothing!" Max insisted with a frown. "He didn't want to tell me anything anyway. Don't get all bent out of shape."

"Hey!" Will corrected. "Mind your manners, Maddox. I'm your father."

"Sorry," Max mumbled, toeing the dirt.

Will picked up on Max's apparent annoyance with him. "What is it, son?" he asked Max with more patience in his voice than before, squatting down in front of him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'."

"Come on, I know something's up. You've been quiet this whole ride."

"It's just ... we never ..." Max exhaled. "Nevermind."

"We never what?"

"We never get to do normal stuff!" Max argued with a huff. "We're always running away from people. I just ... want to be a normal family."

Will's eyes closed as Max continued to stare down at the ground, kicking rocks away from himself. He was pained by Max's honesty, knowing the boy, his sister and his mother deserved better. This was the future Cara had always feared for their children, never being able to just live a normal life. How could they, though? How could they lead a normal existence when nothing about them or their parents, or their entire family for that matter, was normal? "I know," Will whispered with a small sigh. "Your mom ... Your mom was scared of that, too." Max's eyes met his father's. "Mommy always was afraid that you and Emma would miss out on all the stuff kids usually get to do. Looks like she was right." He sighed deeply, hanging his head. "But ... the world isn't a normal place right now, Max. There's nothing I can do about it right now."

Max looked upset. "I'm sorry, Daddy," he murmured. "I ... I won't talk about it anymore."

"No," Will interrupted, looking up and taking Max's upper arms into his hands. "You can talk about it all you want to. I don't want you to keep things inside. It's okay to be disappointed, or even mad at me and Mommy. We need to know how you feel. Always."

"I love you and Mommy, and even Emma most times," Max said with his own sigh. "I guess I just want to have friends."

Will nodded. "Friends are always nice to have. But what about River?"

Max shrugged. "He doesn't talk to me much anymore."

_Emma_. "Oh. I see."

"That's why ... I guess ... That's why I wanted to know about women. Because everybody has somebody except me and John, and he's like ancient and probably doesn't care about women anymore."

"Well," Will said with a small smile, "I can tell you that being friends with a girl is the best way to start any relationship. And I'm sure there will be some special girl that you'll meet very soon." Will stood. "In the meantime, you can be my buddy, okay?"

Max squinted up at Will. "It's not really the same, Dad."

"It isn't, is it?"

"Nope."

"Well ..." Will stopped, his eyes venturing over Max's head into the distance. "Max," he whispered, "tell your mom and Emma to get in the car. Right now."

Max's eyes grew wide. "Daddy!"

"Do it, Max!" Will urged, pushing the boy behind him as he kept his eyes locked on the dark trucks headed toward them, the familiar Censure sirens blaring in the distance. "Cyrus!" he yelled. "Dad!" He rushed over to them. "Get in the cars! We've got to get out of here!" Will ran by them and made sure Shilah and Eric's crew were loaded safely.

"Gibson," Will asked breathlessly once he reached him and Skinner, "how many are there?"

"Four trucks," Gibson murmured. "Six men in each."

"Shit." He turned back to the cars. "We'll never outrun them," he said to himself, the gears flying in his mind. "CYRUS!"

"Yeah!" Cyrus replied as he bounded toward Will.

"Listen to me," Will said softly, tearing his eyes away from the trucks in the distance, "I need you to drive the car with Cara and the kids."

Cyrus paused, understanding Will's insinuation. "No," he argued, shaking his head. "I'm not leaving you behind."

"It's not your choice!" Will argued. "I've got to keep them back. It's the only way."

"William-"

"Do it!" Will ordered.

"NO! I'm staying back with you. Get Skinner to drive them."

Will growled, racing for Skinner and assigning him to the car his family was in. "WILL!" Cara shouted, trying to get out of the car, but Skinner locked the doors. "NO! OPEN THE DOORS!"

Will took her hand through the window, pulling her forward and kissing her. He felt her tears wet his cheeks, the softness of her lips giving him strength and courage. "I'll catch up to you," he whispered, stroking her hair.

"No, Will! Don't do this!" Cara begged. "Max said we have to stay together!"

Will shut his eyes and kissed Cara's hand. "I don't have a choice," he breathed with a shudder. "I love you."

"No Daddy!" Emma cried.

"I love you both," Will said to the kids in pain as he slipped away.

"NO!" Cara screamed as she grabbed Will's arm through the window. Will took a final glimpse at her and the kids, then reluctantly released himself from his wife and raced back for the other vehicles, hearing her screaming his name behind him.

"GO!" he shouted to Skinner over his shoulder, sighing in relief when he heard the tired spin and carry the SUV away. Will pounded on the remaining vehicles, waving the others forward. "GO, GO, GO!" he shouted, Shilah and Eric only hesitating for a second, then tearing off down the road. Mulder refused to move his car. "DAD!" Will yelled. "I need you to go! NOW!"

As Will pleaded with his parents, Christina was about to jump out of the car when Cyrus kept the door pressed. Her lips parted as she looked at him in shock. "No," she whispered.

"Stay with them," Cyrus pleaded, his voice muffled from the glass. He kept his hand against the glass momentarily. "I love you."

"Cyrus!" Christina yelled, banging on her window. "CYRUS!" She sank in the backseat alone, quivering in tears as she watched Cyrus race to Will's side.

"No, William!" Scully yelled, yanking at the door handle.

"I'll catch up with you!" Will promised, pressing his hand to the glass in front of his mother. "I love you both. Now go!"

"Unlock the doors, Mulder!" Scully shouted angrily, violently pulling against the shiny metal.

Mulder knew that Will's diversion was the only way the children would remain safe. He believed that Will was smarter than the Censurians, that he could delay them and meet back up with them through Max. Separation was the only way to keep Max and Emma safe, and if they were the key to destroying the evil that controlled everything, he had no choice. He would have to let his son sacrifice himself.

He imagined this was how Joseph must have felt if he was still alive when Jesus decided to let himself be condemned. It was the worst thing he ever experienced. "I can't, Dana," he whispered.

"The hell you can't!" Scully screamed, still fighting the locks. "DO IT!"

Instead, Mulder turned on the engine, pained by Scully's desperation and rage against him. "NO!" she cried out, her tears falling as she slammed her hands against the handle. "DAMN YOU, MULDER!" she screamed through her tears. "DAMN YOU!"

* * *

The cars left, Will and Cyrus standing side-by-side as they faced the on-coming Censurian vehicles. The people who had been around took to hiding, their isolation reminding Will of a standoff from an old western movie he once watched with Jack as a teenager. "You shouldn't have stayed," Will argued to Cyrus, keeping his eyes on the trucks coming closer to them.

"I'm not leaving you to fight alone," Cyrus replied, he too staring at the vehicles.

"You got any special powers I'm not aware of?"

"Other than my knack for attracting trouble? Not really."

"Great."

"Can we use the fuel to our advantage?" Cyrus quickly thought aloud. "Can we lure them over here close enough then blow them?"

"They won't die," Will reminded, though he was intrigued by Cyrus' plan.

"I know," Cyrus agreed. "But at the very least, we'll get a head start on them."

Will nodded. "Get the people out of the nearby area," he ordered. "Then we'll take the car you stole from Oklahoma."

"Not stole," Cyrus joked lightly. "Permanently borrowed."

"You act like it makes a difference."

"Just trying to clear my conscience just in case." Cyrus rushed off to carry out his brother in law's orders, clearing the few people from the gas station.

When the trucks approached, gunfire opened up on Will, who immediately blocked the Censurians and their vehicles with his force, his face twisting in pain as he kept them at bay. "Is it clear yet?" Will shouted over his shoulder to Cyrus, who was herding people away from the station.

"Yeah! Moving on to the car!" Cyrus shouted from the distance.

"Well, take your time," Will growled with sarcasm. "I mean, the pain of holding these Censurians back isn't quite killing me yet!"

"Bloody hell!"

"You're telling me," Will grumbled, watching the Censurians struggle under his telekinetic grip. The whoosh of helicopter blades approaching overhead made his stomach sink. "Oh shit!" he growled. "COME ON, CYRUS!"

"I'M TRYING!" Cyrus growled as he fumbled with the wires.

"TRY HARDER!" Will growled back. His eyes widened as he watched the helicopters approach, backing up toward the SUV. "Come on, Cyrus!" Will shouted.

"Got it!" Cyrus announced as the engine roared to life. He hopped in the driver's seat, buckling the seat belt as Will climbed into the passenger's seat, his face tightened and sweat glistening on his brow. He quickly threw the car into drive, catching a glimpse of how Will released the group of trucks with relief, his attention quickly focusing on the gas station. "DRIVE!" Will ordered; Cyrus slammed on the gas, urging the car faster.

The explosion engulfed the Censurian army, the fireball's intensity sliding their own car forward violently. "HANG ON!" Will yelled, gripping onto the door as Cyrus tried to maintain his steering.

Though they soon approached a safe area away from the fire, the helo overhead was still a looming threat. "Can you take it down?" Cyrus asked, flying down the road.

Will thought of San Francisco and how he had failed to do it there. "I don't know," he admitted. He squeezed his eyes shut and isolated the chopper in his thoughts, the tear of the pain from exerting so much power making him groan.

"Easy!" Cyrus coaxed. "Go easy, William!"

"Can't ... if ... we want ... to live ..." Will groaned, his struggle becoming harder but more successful. Cyrus observed the way the chopper was rattling off course.

"That's it!" Cyrus encouraged. "You've got it! Just a bit more!"

Will's whole body ached, the power he expelled at a level he never experienced before. "SHIT!" he yelled, the severe pain crippling him. A large boom behind them filled the air, fire bursting from the helicopter that Will managed to bring to the ground, it and the fireball fading in the distance.

"William!" Cyrus yelled, glancing at his brother in law. "Stay with me, mate!" Will groaned, his eyes shut as he lay slumped in the passenger's seat. "Shit," Cyrus murmured, realizing the only connection he had to the other caravan was through Will. "Come on!" Cyrus urged, reaching over to shake Will. "Talk to Maddox. Ask him where he is." Cyrus was worried as soon as he didn't hear Will respond. "William!" he shouted, glancing over to him.

Will's eyes were shut, his face pale as he lay slumped against the door. "Bloody hell!" Cyrus cursed in fear, gripping the wheel tight.

His own face paled when he saw the fleet of Censurian army vehicles coming from all directions to surround the car. He sped up, intending to push through the blockade that was created but growled when the tires were shot out, making the SUV skid to a halt.

Cyrus was familiar with the Passion of Christ, and the parallels here were no exception. Will had once been triumphant, earning the people's trust and faith through his demonstration of truth. Harry had played a cruel Judas, though, sealing Will's fate to be captured as Jesus was in the garden it seemed. Those he was with fled, an exception being Peter, who he assumed was now him. As he sat alongside his brother in law, Cyrus thought of the next parts of the story regarding the beating and crucifixion of Christ. His panicking grew. Last he checked, Will couldn't rise from the dead.

"William!" Cyrus urged, shaking his brother in law. "SHIT! WILLIAM! BLOODY WAKE UP!" Cyrus kept his eyes locked on the Censurians who approached, their automatic weapons aimed at him.

"HANDS UP! STEP OUT OF THE CAR!" one screamed at him.

"WILLIAM!" Cyrus yelled, trying to discreetly feel for his gun tucked in his waistband. "GET-"

Cyrus groaned in pain, a bullet striking him in his shoulder just above his chest, the shattered windshield glass raining down on his cargo pants. With a shaky hand, he tried again for his gun, receiving another bullet in the same area, then another in his arm. "Get your bloody hands off of me!" he screamed, feeling himself being yanked out of the car by the Censurians, his body tossed on the ground. His gun was retrieved, he pinned by two Censurian guards while Will was pulled from the passenger side, tossed carelessly down on the ground beside him. Through his pain, Cyrus looked over at Will, begging him silently to wake up as he weakly struggled against the guards.

Will didn't open his eyes.


	10. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Miles separated the caravan from where the Censurians were stopped by Will and Cyrus, Skinner's knuckles white as he gripped the wheel to the SUV with Will's precious cargo strapped inside. Cara had lost the ability to speak soon after her voice nearly gave out from screaming, the shock hitting her and consuming her.

Her paleness made Skinner nervous, unsure whether the young woman beside him would stay conscious or not. "Caraline," he murmured, taking a quick glance toward her, "are you alright?"

_Am I alright?_ she asked herself in silence. Her husband - her best friend, partner and father of her children - just decided on the spur of a moment to offer himself as a sacrifice to the blood thirsty Censurian army guards. Her final contact with him had been through an open car window, the door of the vehicle and the seat belt restraining her from even embracing him. The kiss they shared was chaste compared to others that had come before it, fear driving the pace of their union. Her throat ached from first screaming his name, then just incoherent cries of terror as she watched her husband strain against evil itself through the rearview mirror. What compounded it all was realizing her brother had chosen to stay with him, accepting the same, if not worse, fate for himself.

"Max," Cara finally whispered, her body shaking, "where is Daddy? Where is he?" She knew she was begging - she didn't care. She would beg anyone to tell her where Will was.

"He's not talking," Max murmured, sniffing back a tear.

"What about Uncle Cyrus?" she asked quickly.

"He's ... He's in pain."

"Do you know where he is?"

"No," Max said with sorrow. "He's moving ... He's in a truck, but he doesn't know where it is going." Max chewed on his lip, clutching Emma's hand beside him. "Daddy is alive. Uncle Cyrus keeps thinking that so you know."

Cara burst into tears, her sobs breaking through the air with sharpness.

* * *

The two-way radios allow the caravan to communicate, deeming the now thirty mile distance from the scene of the Censurian raid safe. The cars pulled over, Skinner, Mulder, Eric and Shilah exiting their vehicles to discuss their options.

Cara knew she needed to be strong for her children, but something about the situation was so final that she didn't have the strength of her hope like she had in times of crisis before. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, this day was long since coming and it ate at her, gnawing through her with impressive speed. "Mommy?" Emma whispered.

"Yeah sweetie?" Cara whispered back, her eyes still locked on the view through the windshield.

"Is Daddy going to die?"

* * *

"This is my fault," Christina murmured as she shivered in the back seat, a chill overcoming her despite the hot summer air that warmed the car.

"No, it's not," Scully insisted, it being the first words she spoke since leaving the gas station.

"It is," Christina insisted, shaking her head. "If I had just left with Harry, you each would be safe. William would've never been found. Cyrus ..." She stopped, her throat feeling like it was closing at the mention of his name.

"You don't know that. You don't know that Harry wouldn't have been tempted by the promise of rewards for the information he held. It was a risk William took to bring him to you." Scully sighed. "William trusted him as much as I'm sure you once did. It's no ones fault but Harry's."

"I was the fuel to his fire. I was-"

"Listen," Scully interrupted gently, turning toward the young woman behind her, "everyone is responsible for their own choices in life. Everyone, including Harry. It doesn't matter what your actions were - it was always up to him to choose a higher road, and he didn't." She paused for a beat, examining Christina's tear-stained face. "You have to believe that there is still hope," Scully whispered. "You can't focus on what won't change now. You need to access your faith, just like John said. We all need your faith. We all need your belief."

"Don't you have faith, too?" Christina asked, seeing the glint of the gold cross draped around Scully's throat.

"Not that much," Scully admitted with a sigh.

Christina knew the feeling. "When my parents died and I heard how they were killed, I didn't either." She drew a shaky breath. "Turns out that I only needed a tiny bit to keep going."

"Faith of a mustard seed ..."

"You remember the scripture, then?"

Scully did, but even the quantity of faith comparable to the size of a mustard seed seemed an impossible achievement.

* * *

"We have no way of getting in contact with them, and they've got no way to contact us," Skinner argued. "They're not interested in what we've got. Without William, we're no threat."

Mulder shook his head. "He'll come for the kids," he insisted, his hands on his hips. "It's why William sacrificed himself. He knows the Black Lunged Bastard wants the kids more than he does himself. He'll take William to pick him apart for his power, but it's the kids he wants destroyed."

"Then what do we do?" Shilah asked.

"We keep going to Virginia," Mulder replied.

"We're not going to look for William and Cyrus?" Skinner asked, baffled.

"They're not even here anymore. He's taken them. We have no way of knowing where they are." Mulder sighed, shutting his eyes. "Look," he said, his head hanging, "the only way we can stop this is to kill it at the root."

"Using the kids?" Skinner argued.

"I don't think the kids have to actually do anything," Mulder explained.

"How do you figure?"

"I've seen what Max can do. He was born and he took down a bounty hunter with just his presence in the same building. And he was a newborn."

"So you're saying, just get them in the same area?" Eric asked.

Mulder nodded. "I think the Smoking Man will be weakened the closer we get. The closer that Max gets."

"Then why take William?" Skinner asked.

"Why not? He's the most powerful adult in the world."

"Will we deal with the Cancer Man, if that's what he wants?"

"No, no deals."

"Then-"

"Look," Mulder interrupted, his temper flared. "William knew what he was doing. He bought his children time, space and he hoped protection. Now we've got to ensure they make it to where we are going. Otherwise, my son will suffer in vain."

Mulder spun around on his heel and headed for the car Scully was in, sighing as he sunk into the front seat next to her. He slammed the door harder than necessary, his mind reeling over the choice Will had made, as well as his own choice to support him despite his desire to protect him. "We keep going," Mulder murmured, leaning one elbow on the door frame while the other hand ran through his hair. He knew he was rambling, as if he was trying to convince himself of the merit of his plan. "It's all we can do. We've got to destroy this thing at the base. It'll just keep growing if we don't."

He knew Scully was livid at him for his initial choice to stop her from pursuing Will, as well as heartbroken over the reality of what they faced. He expected an angry objection, a fighting match of wills - the same banter that stoked the fire of their relationship for longer than they kept track of.

Instead, she sat quietly, fingering the hem of her khaki button-down shirt that was open over her white camisole. No words. It was worse than hearing how horrible he was or how careless his actions were or any other reprimand he could ever imagine. Her silence told him she hated the reality he presented, yet supported the choice he made. Her silence didn't give him confidence or help him to determine which course of action to take, which path to travel.

In that moment, he realized he relied on her for direction so much, both in the past and in recent times, the same way he relied on Will for leadership. No. Now wasn't a time to back down or become a coward. Now wasn't a time to second-guess himself or to wait for a hand to hold. His son's life was on the line. His grandchildren's lives were on the line. He had to act.

Mulder's silent pep talk didn't quell all of his fears, though - he could still hear them snickering in his mind as he led the caravan east, assuring him that the worst was yet to come.

* * *

2:23 PM CST

The light pierced Will's eyes with urgency, whatever hood that had been forced over his face swiped away, bright beams assaulting him. If he didn't know better, he would've sworn there were bricks pushing his head down, the muscles in his neck straining under even the simplest demand of movement.

Was he bound? Yes, his wrists were strapped behind him. He didn't expect to see himself merely sitting on a chair, though, as he opened his eyes fully, taking in his surroundings. It was as if they underestimated his capabilities. His stomach dropped with the thought; his hands automatically tested his theory. Handcuffs that would've normally snapped like toys scraped his wrists and kept him vulnerable. They didn't underestimate him - they weren't afraid of him because there was nothing to be afraid of.

Will's upper arm burned with the realization, the pain that pounded his head and the ache that traveled through his joints so familiar. He imagined the Censurian guards each kept a stock of the one thing that could kill him-magnetite-in anticipation for this very moment, when he would be captured. He was unstoppable without it in his system. With it, he was subject to their every whim.

"Good afternoon, William," a voice spoke behind him with sureness that made Will's blood run cold. His head hurt too much to turn toward it. He didn't care to, anyway - he knew whose voice it was without looking. "How are you feeling?" Will didn't answer, which he knew irritated the Smoking Man, catching the huff he made behind him. "Not very social, I guess. It's understandable, considering the condition we found you in. You look far better than your brother in law does."

_Cyrus_. Will swallowed with the thought, knowing Cyrus most likely had suffered greatly to protect him after he blacked out. He just prayed he was still alive. "You must have done some heavy lifting," the Smoking Man continued. "You exhausted yourself to near death. Of course, with your ability to heal, we weren't all that concerned. About a half-hour after we took you and your brother in law, you came to. We sedated you, naturally. That, coupled with the magnetite injections, is why you feel so lethargic."

"You're still scared of me, though," Will murmured with a small smile.

"What makes you say that?" the Smoking Man asked as he lit a new cigarette.

"You don't want to look me in the eye to talk to me. You're too afraid to leave yourself vulnerable."

"Afraid?" the Smoking Man asked with a laugh. "My boy, you've got it all backwards. I don't fear you. It's me you should fear."

"Come out of the shadows, coward. I'd love to see your ugly face again so I can spit in it." A replacement nearby punched Will in the stomach, Will sputtering as he coughed. "Touch me again!" he growled to the replacement as a warning, strained. He received another punch to his gut, the wind partially knocked out of him. "You're dead, you bastard!" Will snapped through his shaky breaths to the replacement.

"Save your energy, William," the Smoking Man chided. "There is much to discuss. Do you remember the gifts I sent you when your beautiful wife was pregnant with your exquisite children?" The Smoking Man was still behind Will but stepped closer. Will was quiet as he thought. The train, the plane and the boat. The toys had been burned before they moved to Alaska. "You never did thank me for them."

"No reason to," Will growled, feeling the beginnings of the all too familiar effect of losing to the darkness he wrestled with from the magnetite in his system.

"How is Caraline, by the way?" The Smoking Man exhaled slowly behind Will, closer to himself than Will realized. "I bet motherhood suits her." Will was stopped by the replacement as he tried to go after the Smoking Man at the mention of his wife. He groaned under the pressure the replacement put on his arms, the pain more than he normally felt. "I bet she's radiant," the Smoking Man continued, circling around to face Will as the replacement kept him braced. "Even more sensual than she was before, I'd imagine. I'll find out when I see her soon. I'm looking forward to it."

Will let out an animalistic snarl as he pulled against the replacement, gritting his teeth together as he watched the Smoking Man smile. "If you touch her, I will kill you, you son of a bitch," Will warned darkly.

"See, this is exactly what we need to discuss. You can't kill me," The Smoking Man drew in on the cigarette calmly as he stood in front of Will. "Especially not in your current condition." He eyed Will. "And of course, you know your father listened to your plan, however ill-fated it might have been. Right now, he's continuing to head east, as if the mere presence of your son will be the thing to destroy me." He exhaled, playing the bluff, knowing Will wasn't absolutely sure of his theory of Max's power and purpose. He was hoping to use Will's doubt against him while he bought time. "That is what you're betting on, isn't it? Maddox William Mulder to redeem the world through his existence alone?"

The Smoking Man Dragged on the cigarette again, keeping his focus on Will. "Let's get back to the gifts I sent," he said. "Then you'll understand why your plan was so poorly constructed." He took a few steps, pacing slowly as he talked. "There were three toys that were once yours that I put in the box - a plane, a train and a boat. All three were in sore shape, much like you now are. Yet, all three have one thing in common - they are methods of transportation." He paused, taking another drag off of the stem.

In the haze of his mind, Will was desperately trying to piece the puzzle together before the Smoking Man could reveal it to him, knowing that there still was a chance that Max could hone in on his thoughts. "You see," the Smoking Man continued, "the toys were each symbolic of a way that the alien virus has been transported in the past. Those methods didn't work entirely. There were holes and gaps that needed to be remedied in order for the success rate to be higher. But what those three toys also had in common was their owner." The Smoking Man stood in front of Will, taking a puff. "And their owner, despite all of the trauma he has ever endured, is a resilient man."

He began pacing again. "Then it hit me - why not use a resilient means of transportation instead of weaker ones? It was a brilliantly simple solution to an on-going problem - transportation through existence. The only issue with the idea was how to go about weakening your stubborn nature so you might be used as a vessel. How do you kill a man who can't seem to die?" he asked. "The obvious answer is magnetite, which we've already begun to administer in carefully-measured doses to ensure the smoothest transition. It's a myth that you'd die with too much magnetite, William. The others like you, most certainly. But not you. It doesn't kill you, it merely changes who you are. It leaves you vulnerable, but doesn't automatically kill you. It's why you've been able to endure it in mass quantities in the past. You've always been an oddity, much like your son and daughter now are. No," he said, exhaling, "magnetite won't kill you. It strips away your power. And without your power - being fully human - you die like the rest of us."

The Smoking Man looked Will in the eyes. "The good news is, I'm not planning on taking one power away without giving another. Oh, you might feel like dying during the conversion, but rest assured, your change will become more natural than your existence has ever felt. See, one cannot toe the line for their entire life, William." He smiled. "One can't have the piece of cake in their hands and eat it, too." He breathed, a gray puff lingering near Will's face, the smoke stinging his eyes. "No, William. Your abomination of a life has gone on long enough. When I'm finished with you, you'll wonder why you didn't seek me out sooner to be converted."

"Converted to what?" Will snapped.

The Smoking Man laughed. "You know exactly what, William," he replied, taking a drag. "Your battle between mortality and immortality will soon end. Being immortal is was you were meant to be. You were never meant for a life with a wife and children, William." He let the smoke go through his lips. "You've known that all along. It's been said from the beginning that if William Mulder seeks family, the family will die. Am I right? Well, I rescued both you and your family. See, without your mortality, you essentially 'die.' This 'death' of sorts is only a death to an existence imprisoned by obligation to lives you'll never be able to protect." He paused, seeing Will's reaction. "That's right," he reaffirmed. "You're well on your way to the life you were meant to have. A life forevermore with no attachments. A singular existence with no burdens and no pain."

"And no soul," Will breathed, remembering the conversation he once had with the Smoking Man long ago in Arizona.

_"You listen to me, you son of a bitch," Will remembered saying in regards to a threat made against Cara. "You come anywhere near her and I'll make you regret the day you were born."_

_"Such a temper. We had predicted that in you." The Smoking Man paused. "If you're not careful, it can get you into trouble, William."_

_"Who are you?!"_

_"My advice to you would be to cherish what you have right now. Because a time is coming when you'll be left with nothing. Not even your own soul. I'll be in touch."_

"Souls are useless, William," the Smoking Man said, bringing Will out of his thoughts. "They are burdensome anchors to a world that doesn't have much to offer. The new William Mulder will be someone to envy." The Smoking Man leaned close to Will, smiling as he puffed on his cigarette. "Remember how I said I saved your entire family?" He exhaled, standing up straight. "Well, I'm sure you've heard of the prophecy: If the father lives, the son serves his cause and if the father dies, the son will serve the opposite cause. Your conversion will save Maddox's life by allowing him the same immortality that you are in the process of receiving."

"No," Will breathed, realizing what it all meant.

"Yes, William. See, it was never about you and Fox, but rather about you and Maddox." The Smoking Man smiled, a small laugh escaping him. "The best part about your conversion is that you won't even remember anything that came before once it's complete," he explained, Will's eyes widening in horror. "Caraline, Maddox, Emma, even your mother and father, will be of no consequence to you once you're finished. Maddox will work for me, and I'll make sure Emma is utilized." His grin widened, seeing Will's angry look that was thinly veiling his sickened worry. "Caraline already belongs to me according to a contract her father signed. You won't have any use for her anymore. You'll be a free man. Sex will be the last thing on your mind. I'll be sure Caraline's ... talents ... don't go to waste."

As he stood and crushed the cigarette underfoot, the Smoking Man watched Will struggle violently against the replacement, groaning in pain. He fought hard enough that another replacement had to assist holding him. "Don't you touch them!" Will screamed as the Smoking Man walked away and out of sight. "You fucking bastard! I'll kill you! I swear, I will kill you! Don't you dare touch them! I'LL KILL YOU!"

"No, you won't, William," the Smoking Man assured as he lingered near the opened door to the room. "Soon, you'll serve me."


	11. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

6:51 PM EST

If it wasn't death's door he was currently knocking on, then Cyrus didn't know what it could possibly be. Ache. Everything ached - even his teeth. Burn. A burning sensation surrounded him like a fire was lit under his skin, the heat blistering him from the inside out. Throb. He could feel the pulse of his blood everywhere in his body, the throbbing especially relentless in his head.

He wasn't bound; he could move if he wanted to. Moving, though, would require motor-skills he didn't have at present. He wasn't going to fool himself with trying to move - not without first opening his eyes.

The thought of Will made him slowly lift his eyelids. Was he suffering a worse fate? Was he still alive? When they were initially captured, he kept repeating the thoughts in his head for Max to get ahold of, trying to send his sister the message that her husband was okay. Since they were separated what he assumed was hours ago, though, he had no clue as to what had become of Will.

He became aware of the pain from the bullets that were still lodged in his body, though he saw he had been roughly bandaged. "How kind," he said sarcastically under his breath, unconcerned whether anyone heard. "Must want your bait to be appetizing for the hunt, yeah?"

The concrete was cool and scratchy under him, hard and unforgiving. His eyes shifted from his own bloodied body to his surroundings. This was an entirely new place. It had to be. They had been dragged to a warehouse of sorts before, but this cell was underground, as if it existed for this very reason, or one dangerously similar to it. Did they travel? There were no windows for him to determine night and day. Were they in a different state?

Slowly, very slowly, Cyrus pushed up onto his elbows, moaning in pain when he realized it wasn't the best course of action considering his bullet wounds. He flopped back down on his back, choosing to roll onto his good side and lift himself up using it. When he finally planted his feet on the ground, he sighed. The realization came back to him, how he had resisted giving the information they desired and was beaten because of it. Somewhere along the way, he had been knocked unconscious, thankfully left alone after that.

"Glad to see you're awake," the Smoking Man said. Cyrus was confused; he was alone. He turned, finding a speaker behind himself. It was then that he saw the two-way mirror.

"An observation room?" Cyrus asked. "I guess you only feel safe in hiding, then."

"My safety isn't what you should concern yourself with," the Smoking Man replied, smiling as he watched Cyrus through the other side, seeing Cyrus approach.

"Yeah, why's that?"

"Because I'm interested in you, Cyrus English," the Smoking Man said through an exhale. "I'm interested in experimenting with you."

"Experiment?" Cyrus asked.

"We never did get to examine Caraline's genetics, thanks to William. Yours are a nice substitute. Doesn't it make you nostalgic for your teenage years?"

"Yeah," Cyrus murmured sarcastically. "I'm all a tingle."

"You know, Timothy was very quiet about you in the earlier days," the Smoking Man noted, dragging deeply in on the stem he held. "Kept your existence rather secret. Probably because you weren't as much of a gem as your sister is."

"Yet," Cyrus quipped, "here I am, locked up like a dog you're scared to handle yourself."

"I'm not scared of you, Cyrus."

"Then come in here."

"Taunting me, are you? You've got a lot of gall to do that in your particular situation. You should be negotiating with me."

"You want to negotiate? Well I've got some terms for you."

"I'm listening."

Cyrus kept a straight face through his bluff. "You let William go and I'll give up the entire Shield camp that's eluded you for years now."

The Smoking Man paused, exhaling slowly as Cyrus stared at the mirror off-center to where he was, unable to see him. "Hmm. Interesting. One man for all the Shields in hiding, is that right?"

"That's right."

The Smoking Man took a long puff, smiling. "Cyrus Daniel English, born on July thirty-first, nineteen eighty-four in Brisbane. Mother's name was Katrina Ebbert, a selfish and detached mother and regional starlet who tragically died of an overdose of cocaine when you were fifteen. Since that day, you've hustled for a living, buying and selling information from wherever and to whoever you could. You first were on the hunt to find the dealer who sold your mother the heroin-laced cocaine, and when you did, what did you do to him, Cyrus?" He watched as Cyrus' breathing quickened, his nostrils flared at the mention of his personal history. "You let him go. You had a gun, you were ready to kill him - a known drug dealer who probably went on to sell more drugs that killed more people - yet, you let him go. You ran away. And do you remember why, Cyrus? Do you remember why you ran away?" The Smoking Man's laugh made Cyrus infuriated. "Because you were scared. You were a scared little boy who couldn't pull the trigger." The Smoking Man watched through his laughing as Cyrus turned away from the mirror. "So you flew to America to Daddy, but Timothy never loved you, did he, Cyrus? He put you in an orphanage to hide you away from his wife and his golden child. You continued to hustle your way out of that orphanage, eventually trying to buy your father's love through building his dream. A dream you now are offering to sell for the man who screwed your sister - a man, I might add, that doesn't care about you, either. Just like your father." Cyrus heard the Smoking Man exhale. "Such a miserable excuse of a life you've led," he said, crushing his spent cigarette. "And you want to hustle me now? You're pathetic, Cyrus."

"Fuck off," Cyrus growled angrily.

The door to the cell Cyrus was in swung open, three replacements filling the space and detaining Cyrus while two others moved a rolling capsule into the room. They parked the glass chamber, lifting the lid as the replacements forced Cyrus inside.

Cyrus fought as much as he could, the pain searing through him as he struggled. The Smoking Man watched through the glass as the replacements strapped him down tightly in the capsule, Cyrus unable to move any part of his body including his head, his mouth shouting obscenities and vulgar threats as the capsule lid was kept open. "Up to this point, Cyrus, your life had been a joke. Now, at least you'll serve a purpose. But first, I want to see if you're worth the time and energy spent."

Cyrus' protesting and angry words were muffled as the lid was sealed, the replacements in white jumpsuits working quickly to attach a long tube through a vacuum-sealed port, the other end to a cylinder. Cyrus tried to pull at his restraints, barely able to flex his fingers under his binds.

His eyes widened in horror as the contents of the tube directly above his face became visible, the black oil seeping down with purpose on his skin, burying itself into him as he cried out in pain.

* * *

10:19 PM CST

The moonlight filled the SUV, the still-warm summer night air coasting gently through the opened windows. It was peaceful, it was the most serenity he had taken in for what seemed like years. The cicadas and crickets sang without concern, unaffected by the laws of the Censure's curfew. In that moment, he envied nature. It was still free.

He knew, of course, that it wasn't. Nature was just as bound as they, if not moreso. Nature had been altered, no longer pure but now contaminated with an extraterrestrial virus. It wasn't just his entire family depending on his accuracy with his decision to keep heading east, but the rest of society and even nature itself.

It was too much pressure to be able to sleep, the rest of the caravan wiser than he and taking sleep as soon as it came for them individually. He couldn't sleep; it always abandoned him when he needed it most. He couldn't stop thinking about the desperation in his son's voice when he begged his father to leave him behind. He couldn't rid Scully's screams of anguish from his mind, though her voice had long since been silent. He kept seeing Cara's terror in her glassy blue eyes after the first time they parked, she hugging both of her children at once tightly on her lap despite their size. He saw his grandchildren's faces, solemn and darkened by the tragedy, each carrying a burden far too heavy for them.

It was all wrong - the entire thing was jaded. After years of fighting against the darkness, they were suppose to be free, be able to rest. He was suppose to give her a happily ever after that she so desperately deserved. He promised her they would escape the darkness. He promised himself. He should never have let his son go - he should've begged him to stay instead of understanding his choice and accepting it despite his bitterness about it. How many times had he let Will go? How many times had Will slipped through their fingers? Today was only another tally mark to the total, another line to the many already there. Yet, it hurt worse than any of the times before. He knew why, and the reason was killing him. Before, it wasn't the end - the commitments Will made were to temporary absences. Today was different. Today was final. Today was the end that they each had swept under the rug, the same end that ate his son alive since he learned of it a year and a half ago.

He leaned back against the driver's seat head rest, his eyes still fixed on the darkness that surrounded them outside of the windshield. The gentle rhythm of Christina's breathing behind him was soothing, her lithe frame curled in the fetal position. Scully's petite body was slouched in the front passenger's seat, her shut eyes and parted lips reminding him of many stakeouts they conducted together where, despite her insistence that she be woken, he willingly took both watches. She never ceased to make him smile; the world was collapsing around them, yet here she was, still by his side. His rock. His touchstone.

The idea of failing her so miserably for so many years made him groan audibly. He wasn't aware of the throaty noise he made, but rather just of how she stirred and woke, her light eyes instantly opening and peering over at him. "You okay?" she breathed, as if she imagined the sound connected to intense physical pain rather than emotional.

"Yeah," Mulder murmured. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as his neck was arched from how his head leaned back. "Sorry, go back to sleep."

She couldn't - not after seeing the way his eyes were so full of sorrow. "You're doing the right thing," Scully whispered. Years together, not to mention their connection to each other, had afforded her the ability to hone in on his thoughts with lightning speed. It wasn't an exact science, but tonight it was easily translated.

"Am I?" Mulder asked, not moving. "I'm driving my entire family, plus people I consider my family, into the heart of the worst storm that will ever strike the earth."

"It's the only way."

"But what if it's not, Scully?" Mulder whispered, sitting up and facing her. "I mean, what if war isn't the only way? What if there's an alternative?"

"You're starting to sound like a hippie."

Mulder allowed himself to grin at her low-key joke. "I can't help but wonder if this, too, isn't part of their orchestrated plan. Do they now just assume we will play the hero and come barreling in to save the day? Is that what he's banking on? Will it make a difference when we do?"

"Mulder," Scully began with a soft sigh as she took his hand into hers, relishing the warmth of his skin, "for as long as I've known you, you've never given up hope that the truth would prevail over the darkness. Don't let the doubt come now."

"It's not the power of the truth I doubt, Scully. It's the method in which it's being delivered."

"Would you feel differently about what you're doing if it didn't involve your son and grandchildren? If it involved only yourself?"

Mulder sighed deeply, his eyes cast down onto the steering wheel in front of him. "They're so small, Scully," he murmured; he knew his voice shook as he spoke. "And we just got William back ... and he was so happy. His wife, his children ..." His face bore an expression of pained sorrow she rarely saw, yet every time she did witness it, it broke her heart like it was the first time. "Why?" he asked, feeling the tears come. "Why ... Why him? Why our son? Why his wife and children? Why did he have to have this fate?"

He didn't stop the tears from coming, feeling her small hand brushing them from his cheeks as he let them be free. "Why not someone else for once, Dana?" he whispered, his eyes fixed on the scenery in front of him through the glass of the windshield. "Why not someone else?"

"Because he's our son, Mulder," Scully replied, her own eyes watering. "And he can't give up."

* * *

Two days later  
en route to Mount Weather  
11:30 AM EST

It was with a shaky hand and an even more unsteady heart that Mulder continued to lead the caravan east, praying what he sensed about his son and the theory that he held was true. Nights were spent sleeping in the cars, the motels they came across before curfew already ransacked and useless to them. It seemed as if the further east they traveled, the more desperate the people became, the signs of destruction and looting rampant compared to the west. Perhaps the people in the east were closer to the chaos' source and they sensed it. Perhaps it was merely the culture of the people to panick and react with less sense of community than their fellow citizens in the west.

Their rations of food and their personal spirits were both running low, dangerously hovering to the point of literal and figurative starvation should they not be able to be replenished soon. Cara, in an effort to protect her children, gave all of her food over the last day to Max and Emma in secret - no one would have allowed her to do so had she been blatant about it. The hunger ate away at her, her head pounding with ache and her stomach twisting as the nausea overtook her. She knew she felt ill from doing it, but she also knew she had felt this way even before she decided to beef up her children's portion. Will's absence made it magnified, as if the physical ailments fed on her fear.

"You look pale," Scully noted to Cara when they were parked to, once again, feed the children.

"I'm fine," Cara insisted, taking a meager bite of bread for show, then divided it for Max and Emma. "I'm just not hungry."

Scully felt Cara's forehead instinctively with the back of her hand, her touch lingering as she made her determination. "You don't feel feverish."

"Really, I'm fine."

Scully shook her head, isolating her conversation with her daughter in law from the others. "I've seen you look this way before," Scully murmured after the children finished eating and ran to stretch their legs in a hesitant, impromptu game of tag with River and Rebecca's toddlers. Despite the darkness surrounding them, the children seemed to carry more hope for their father and uncle than the adults did.

Cara watched the twins, River and the toddlers, her eyes glassy with tears hearing their soft laughter. "I just feel a bit off, that's all."

"Such as?"

"Headache. Stomach ache."

"Could be because you're not eating."

"Mom-" Cara began before being interrupted by Scully.

"Cara, you need to eat. You can't not eat. The children-"

Cara shut her eyes. "The children need it. I won't see my children starve because of selfishness."

"It's selfish to not take care of yourself," Scully insisted. "They need a mother, they always will, but now more than ever." Scully offered a large portion of her fish jerky. "I've already eaten enough."

"Fine," Cara mumbled, taking the jerky in her hands. She lifted it to her mouth, suddenly revolted by the smell. "Oh, God," she whispered, covering her mouth.

"Are you alright?" Scully asked, watching Cara intently as she brushed hair away from her daughter in law's eyes.

"It ... It stinks," Cara explained with her hand over her mouth.

Scully smelled it. "It's normally that way."

"I'll pass."

"Cara-"

"I can't eat that," Cara insisted, shaking her head.

"You ate it two days ago."

"Well, I can't today!" Cara snapped.

After a beat, Scully's lips parted. "Cara," she breathed, her eyes widening with a looming question her mind immediately conjured up. "Are ... you ...?"

"I don't know," Cara admitted through a shaky whisper, chewing on her bottom lip with sorrow. It was entirely possible she was pregnant with Will's child, she knew that. She and Will hadn't used protection when they made love a couple months prior in Alaska, which seemed like ages ago. They had been intimate since then, but not in any way that would risk pregnancy. Perhaps with all of the stress over the last several weeks she hadn't noticed the signs. Now that she thought of it, she hadn't had to deal with her monthly either, another thing she thought was stress-related. That night in Alaska was as unplanned as what she now faced. They were unprepared for both. "I can't be," she said, instantly crying. "I ... I can't ... have another ... Not without ..."

"Listen to me," Scully said gently, taking Cara's hand, "breathe." She watched Cara draw in a deep breath and exhale with a shiver. "It'll be alright."

"How can you say that?" Cara demanded in a hushed tone, tears streaming down her face. "How could it be alright to bring another child into this world? When Will is ..." She buried her face in her hands, the burden of her fears she held in secret for a while now rising to the surface. Scully drew Cara close to her, rocking her gently as Cara wept.

"Mommy?" Emma called, seeing her mother crying in her grandmother's arms.

"I'm fine, baby," Cara called to her daughter with a sniffle. She offered Emma a wide smile, grateful for how River pounced on her to tag her, unaware of the situation. She laughed softly at Emma's high-pitched squeal, then how she charged after River, appreciative that her daughter embraced her femininity while still being able to hang with the boys.

Scully continued to stroke Cara's hair. "No one can know about this," Cara said softly, her blue eyes meeting Scully's. "If it is that ... I need to abort it."

"Think about what you're saying," Scully whispered, stunned at Cara's words. She thought of how her son would be robbed of his opportunity to know, to make his own choice.

Cara shook her head. "No, I need to abort the child," she insisted.

"William doesn't even know-"

"That's right, and if it is true, he won't."

"Cara-"

"I can't do this to him," Cara said, cutting her off. "He's suffered so much because of my choice to keep Max and Emma, and-"

"Caraline," Scully interrupted, grabbing Cara's hands, "don't do this. Max and Emma are precious gifts. You know that, William knows that, and everyone else knows that. Don't ... Don't condemn this child, should it exist. It's an innocent baby."

"How innocent can it be if it was exposed to the virus?" Cara demanded. She saw how Scully's face changed slightly with the remembrance. "Max was born with the marks on his neck, but they disappeared as he 'aged.' We still don't know what that means. But what we do know is that he was never exposed to the virus! This child ... This child was. What if this child isn't human?"

It was true - Scully had forgotten about the potential effects the prolonged exposure to a powerful strain of the virus could have on the potential child growing in Cara's womb. "The next supermarket we come across, we'll find a test," Scully instructed quietly. "Let's first see if it's even there before we make any decisions."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Cara knew Scully meant well. She knew her mother in law was kind and loving, that she only wanted the best for Will, her and the children. Still, so many years without maternal care or guidance left Cara on edge when she received it, unable to process the nurturing for what it was. It struck her defensive chords, the middle C of her independence ringing through her mind. "There is no 'we' right now," Cara corrected sternly, standing. "Will is my 'we.' So right now, this is my choice. Mine alone."

Without a chance to speak, Scully watched Cara return to the car, hearing her call her children to join her over her shoulder. Seeing the distress on Scully's face, Mulder approached, massaging her arm. "Everything okay?" he asked, examining her.

She swallowed the secret, hating herself for choosing to do so. "Fine," she replied. "Everything's fine."


	12. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

Two days later  
9:48 AM EST

Cyrus groaned, his body aching as his eyes opened slowly to take in his surroundings. He was out of the glass chamber, thankfully, but still locked inside of the observation room as far as he could tell. He had no concept of what day it was, nor how much time had passed. As he slowly became more and more aware of himself, he was relieved to find that his thoughts were still his own and that the bullets had been removed from his body. It was, perhaps, the first time ever in his life that he was grateful for his father's experiments on him, knowing whatever altered genetics he now possessed had saved him from certain infection of the virus he had been subjected to earlier.

He rose with a whimper, clutching his head as he sat up from the floor. The room spun momentarily until he gained his bearings. He swallowed, his throat raw with dryness and thirst. The lack of water was affecting him, dehydration making him ache and lightheaded.

He spotted a pitcher of water in the corner of the room that hadn't existed before and crawled toward it, drinking sloppily from the pitcher itself with relief. He didn't care at that point whether the water was contaminated or clean - surely if they wanted to kill him, he would've died by now, was his rationale.

_William. Caraline. The children._ The worries began to flood his mind as the water trickled down his face. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his heart sinking when he saw her face in his mind's eye once more. _Christina_.

"Sleep well?" he heard the voice say over the speakers. Cyrus set the pitcher down, not bothering to look across toward the two-way mirror. "You've proven your merit," the Smoking Man continued after a beat when Cyrus didn't respond. "You're a stronger Shield than you or your father let on."

"Well, what do you know," Cyrus muttered sarcastically.

"I'd still prefer examining your sister," the Smoking Man continued as he paced on his side of the room, "but we'll have to wait until she and the children are collected. It won't be long now."

Cyrus' eyes remained on the floor, but his interest was peaked. "What do you mean?"

"I've sent William to escort them the rest of the way here," the Smoking Man explained, taking a drag.

"He won't bring them to you. He'll kill you," Cyrus growled.

"Who, the boy?" The Smoking Man smiled. "I'm not scared of a boy, Cyrus."

"You should be."

"I have no reason to. By the time he's anywhere near me, he'll be as useless as any other human." The Smoking Man saw how Cyrus' face changed. "I'm not an idiot, Cyrus. I've already accounted for the removal of any power he might have."

"How?" Cyrus asked, his eyes reluctantly falling on the mirror.

"Quite simple, really. While you were asleep for the last day, William has made his final conversion."

"Conversion?"

"Into what he was meant to be." The Smoking Man exhaled. "It's quite enjoyable seeing such power channeled into means that are more suited for my goals."

Despite the residual ache of his mind and body, Cyrus put together what the Smoking Man was saying. "You ... You made him ..."

"I made him into a powerful weapon," the Smoking Man replied. "In fact, he's seeking out his son right now."

Cyrus' eyes shut. If Will was converted into the darkness he always feared and kept from, he would destroy his own family. His sister and her children would be powerless to stop him. Cyrus even doubted magnetite bullets would end his life, should anyone have the chance to interject with what Will was now set out to do. "My God," he breathed. "You son of a bitch," he growled as he shakily stood. "He'll kill them!"

"No, not yet," the Smoking Man corrected, "but soon. Soon, everything William Mulder has ever had and loved will be destroyed by his own hands."

* * *

Entering Virginia  
10:12 AM EST

Four days had passed since Will and Cyrus were taken by the Censure, the remaining troupe crossing the state lines into Virginia with little to no hassle. Mulder was on high alert because of this, unsure why they hadn't encountered any other attempts to block their passage through to Mount Weather. He was sure by now that the Smoking Man knew of their plans and knew of what a danger Max would be to him should he get too close. Yet, the lack of action by their enemy left Mulder wary of his decision to lead them this far, his mind on his son while he considered that he had misjudged the entire situation completely.

Food was still scarce, though a few opportunities to fish came up throughout the days they spent on the road. Cara's illness was still at a peak, and despite her earlier protests, Scully had managed to scour a roadside convenience stop during their trip for a pregnancy test, which she kept hidden on her person. She didn't know when the right time would be to confront Cara with it, but she knew her daughter in law was desperate for an answer as much as she, the idea that her human knowledge of such a delicate subject as another child of William Mulder's not crossing her mind in her efforts to keep her son's family safe.

Mulder stopped his car nearly as soon as they crossed into Virginia, pulling over with a sigh as he kept his hands on the wheel. "What is it?" Scully asked, slightly confused as to why he stopped. They had gas; they had just bartered to get half a tank each car.

"Something's not right," Mulder murmured, keeping his eyes on the openness in front of him. The trees were absolutely still in the thick summer air, the humidity engulfing and oppressive.

"What do you mean?"

"I expected more challenge than this."

"We should be grateful for the lack of it."

"Should we?" Mulder asked. "Or should we be concerned about not being where we need to be?"

Scully shook her head. "Max and I both sensed William was near here. You know that."

"Then why not come after us? Why allow us to come so passively?"

Scully didn't have an answer. Instead, she looked out into the same scenery Mulder was still observing, now on alert like he was. Maybe he was right. Maybe there was something fishy going on.

"What's wrong?" Shilah asked Mulder after approaching the parked car, his hands on his hips. He was accompanied by Eric and Skinner, who both bore the same confused expression.

"Something's not right," Mulder explained, his gaze still taking in his surroundings.

"How?" Skinner asked.

"I feel like we're being led into something. Otherwise we should've been stopped by now, or at least tried to have been stopped."

The three other men began to scout the woods and open grassy area that lined the road they were pulled over on. "What are you thinking?" Skinner asked Mulder.

"I don't know," Mulder murmured, slowly exiting the car with a shocked look on his face.

"Mulder?" Scully asked, confused as she saw his eyes widen. Her line of sight shifted to where his was, her own eyes growing wide in surprise when she caught what Mulder had in the far distance. "Oh my God," she breathed.

"What is it?" Christina asked, perched on the edge of the back seat.

Scully was afraid to answer. She was just as afraid as Mulder was that it was a mirage or a figment of their imagination. "It's William," she whispered.

* * *

Mulder quickly jogged up the road, knowing in the pit of his stomach that the silhouette he saw was of his son. He knew it was an irrational action, but he couldn't help himself. He heard Skinner and the others behind him, calling his name, Scully's voice in that mix too. Halfway to Will, he stopped, his heart dropping as he realized the potential danger. Could it be a bounty hunter posing as Will?

Mulder quickly reached for his gun, panicking when he realized it was still in the car behind him. "Get back!" Mulder shouted behind him, hearing the others approach while he kept his eye on the nearing figure in front of him.

"William!" Scully cried out, rushing past Mulder in a moment of weakness, desperate to see her son.

"SCULLY!" Mulder shouted, grabbing at her. "Don't! Get back!"

"Mulder!" Scully was offended that he kept his grip tight on her arm. "Let go! It's William!"

"Is it?" Mulder demanded, searching Scully's eyes.

She knew the weight of the question meant Mulder wasn't sure if it truly was their son or not. "Mulder ... It's ..."

"GO!" Mulder ordered to everyone, pushing Scully behind him.

"Mulder!"

"GO!"

Skinner took Scully's arm and led her quickly back to the cars, Mulder snatching Scully's gun before they parted. "NO!" she screamed. "MULDER!" She was horrified at what Mulder was considering doing, catching quick glimpses of him over her shoulder as Skinner continued to pull her along against her will. "NO!" In her heart of hearts, she knew it was, in fact, Will who was approaching them, Mulder less than convinced due to the steely nature that this version of their son embraced, Will's looming silence not encouraging him.

"William!" Mulder shouted, keeping the gun raised. "William, stay where you are!" Will didn't respond, which frightened Mulder more than any response could have. "William!"

"Daddy!"

Mulder's eyes quickly turned, Max's voice piercing the air catching him off guard. "MAX!" he shouted, seeing Cara approaching. "CARA! STAY BACK!"

"Will!" Cara breathed, falling in place next to her son as she took in the sight of her husband.

"Cara!" Mulder snapped. "GET BACK!"

"Why do you have a gun on him?" Cara demanded, her eyes shifting to Will, who had stopped several feet in front of them. "Will," she breathed, letting go of Max as she rushed toward Will.

"CARA!" Mulder shouted, grabbing at Max to keep him away, but failing to detain Cara. "STOP, CARA!"

It was too late, though. In her desperation to be united with her husband, Cara ignored Mulder's warning and flew to Will, her hands clutching at his with pained joy. "Oh God, Will," she whispered, gripping his hands as she looked into his eyes.

It was then that she froze, her heart dropping as she felt the icy temperature of Will's skin, seeing the cold look in his eyes as he stared down at her, nearing staring through her. Her lips parted - this wasn't her husband. If it was, the goodness was long since gone in him. Her fingers slowly released Will's hands, but not before he could snatch them with a rough grip, not flinching as she whimpered in pain. "Will," she breathed, terrified as she recognized the darkness that overwhelmed him, a darkness she had only seen in bits and pieces before but was now wholly consuming him. "Will, you need help," she pleaded, feeling him still gripping her wrists without concern for what pain he might have been causing her.

When she cried out in anguish from Will's tight grip, Max started heading for Cara. "MAX!" Mulder ordered, shoving the boy backward. "RUN!"

"Mommy! Daddy!" Max whimpered, frightened for the way his parents were so silent and still in front of him. Max's dark eyes grew in shock when he honed in on his father's thoughts. "NO, DADDY!" Max pleaded. "STOP!"

"MAX!" Mulder struggled to keep the boy under his grip and his hand on his weapon at the same time.

"Grandpa, Daddy isn't himself!" Max explained, his worries directed toward his mother.

"I know!" Mulder shouted.

"I can help him!"

"Max-"

"I can help him!" Max argued. "He's got magnetite inside of him! I can help him!" Before Mulder could object again, Max looked him in the eye. "Please trust me, Grandpa!" Max begged. "He'll kill Mommy if I don't help!"

With a heavy heart, Mulder slowly loosened his grip on Max's hands, watching in terror as the boy rushed toward his father. He could hear Scully's wild screams of horror behind him as Skinner kept ahold of her. His eyes were glued on the horrific scene in front of him, one which he had encouraged to happen.

"Daddy!" Max said, grabbing his father's icy cold arm. He winced, immediately feeling the extent of the darkness that possessed his father. "Dad! Please! Let go of Mommy!"

Will's eyes turned, taking in the boy below him with blankness. "Max!" Cara pleaded in a whisper, unable to move under Will's tight grip. "Max, please run. Please, baby. Please go."

"No, Mommy," Max argued. "Daddy can hear me." He kept his eyes fixed on Will's. "Daddy, please. Please listen to me. Let go of Mommy."

Will blinked slowly, swallowing as he kept his eyes on Max though his hands still held Cara still. Max's hand continued to rest on Will's arm, the warmth of his son penetrating his icy body. Cara's lips parted when she felt how Will's grip began to loosen on her. "Daddy," she heard Max whisper, "you're stronger than the darkness. Remember? You always told me to be stronger than the darkness. Come on, Daddy." Her son's voice was small, pleading. "Come on, Daddy. Be stronger."

Will's hands fully released Cara's, his eyes still fixed on Max's. "Be stronger, Daddy," Max encouraged, hopeful as he saw his mother's freedom. "Be-"

Will quickly gripped Max, pushing Cara aside when she lunged after him. "Help me," Will whispered, holding Max and drawing out his son's strength as he tried to fight the magnetite inside of him that was killing the good in him.

It hurt Max to have his father taking so much from him, his own strength depleting rapidly as Will drew it into himself. It wasn't long before Will's core temperature rose, the light returning to his eyes and his mind sound and quiet as he retook possession of it. Cara watched motionlessly, Mulder and Scully nearby as they witnessed how Will came to. Max was stronger than the Smoking Man anticipated, his ability to heal his father beyond what he knew Max was capable of. "Max," Will breathed, seeing his son slowly becoming limp in his grasp.

"Will, let him go!" Cara demanded, quickly figuring out why their son was growing so weak so quickly. She ripped Will's hand off of Max, gasping as the boy dropped to the ground. "MAX!" she screamed, swooping down and scooping him into her arms with a shudder. "Max! Baby, please ... Please ..." Her hands skimmed over her son's sweat-slicked face, her mouth open in shock.

"Max," Will whispered, feeling his own self slowly piecing back together, part of the magnetite lingering as his joints still ached. None of it mattered, though - his son, his weakened son, was all that he was concerned with. "Max, please ..." His eyes shot up to his parents. "Mom, Dad," he breathed, seeing Mulder and Scully approaching. "Where is Emma?"

"I'll get her," Scully replied, quickly backtracking to the car where Emma was restricted to.

"If Emma tries to heal him-" Cara began, shaking her head at Will.

"She's got to try!" Will argued, his own heart aching as he wiped the perspiration from Max's forehead. Max's sudden weakness - his possible death if not restored - was entirely his fault. His son would die saving him from himself.

Soon, Emma joined the others, her small face ridden with shock over her brother's condition, not to mention her father's reappearance. "Daddy!" Emma cried out.

"Sweetie, please," Will pleaded, "please help your brother."

Emma quickly laid her hands over Max, touching him tenderly. The group waited with baited breath, no changes evident in Max's condition despite Emma's attempts. "It's not working, Daddy!" Emma cried, the tears falling down her face.

"It's okay, sweetie," Will assured, kissing his daughter's cheek. Will knew what he had to do, but he wasn't sure if it could still be done. "Dad," Will whispered, "I need you to load everyone in the car. Do it before I become dangerous to you. Head east on-"

"William-"

"Dad, if I can take back the magnetite, he will survive."

"Will," Cara whispered, shaking her head. "You've been touching him. If it was going to go back, it would've." She sniffed, chewing on her bottom lip as she looked at Will, seeing the pain she felt mirrored in his eyes. Max breathed gently in her arms as she lifted him and stood. "He's weak," she stated, looking down at the boy. "But we need to keep going." She saw the hesitation in Will's eyes. "You've got to take us to where he is, Will," Cara concluded. "If we destroy him, we destroy it all - even the evil that now is inside our child."

It pained Will to see how he had unknowingly hurt his son, but he knew Cara was right. It was all they could do to save him.

* * *

It was quiet as the caravan trekked further east toward Mount Weather, Will confirming their original destination was correct. Will feared Cyrus was still there, though he hadn't been of his own state of mind when he originally left. Will was both happy with the power he repossessed so he could overtake the Smoking Man, but fearful his son was going to die for that restoration. His fear motivated them to drive as hard and fast as they could, strategizing along the way as Christina opted to ride with Skinner to let Will, Cara and the children be with Mulder and Scully.

Cara kept Max pressed to her, unwilling to relinquish her hold on him to anyone. She knew there were many things going on, but the overwhelming thought of her potential pregnancy kept rattling in her mind as Emma laid in Will's lap.

Having to stop for gas once again, John soon made his way to the car that carried Will's family, observing the tenderness Cara stroked her son with as they were parked. "The time has come," John said quietly. "The lightning must strike the heart in order for things to be restored."

"What does that mean?" Will asked, eying John, the panick clear in his tone. "I need to know exactly what it means!"

"Young Maddox heals just as he kills, and kills just as he heals."

"If he gets anywhere near Max-"

"It is what must be done."

"No," Will argued, shaking his head. "I won't let him touch my son."

"The evil your son now possesses has no place in your family," John warned. "It will return to where it belongs, but only if Maddox strikes the heart."

"A touch?" Will sneered doubtfully. "I've nearly KILLED Max with a touch! And now you're telling me a touch from Satan himself can heal him?"

"It is not the touch that heals," John corrected gently. "It is Maddox's touch that destroys the evil and sends it back to the depths where it belongs."

"I won't risk him."

"It is the only way. Just as the evil sought to control you, so it seeks to control your son. Evil must be returned to evil."

John slowly walked away, leaving Will grumbling under his breath as he sat next to Cara. "Max will be healed so long as I kill the Smoking Man," Will stated, staring ahead.

"What if John is right, Will?" Cara whispered. "The prophecy and the story-"

"-are just that. Stories and prophecies."

"But Will, it is said the monster will be destroyed by the lightning bolts. This is what John was talking about, the touch of Max is the bolt. You are the Sun, the one who provided the lightning. Max will now strike the monster while we, the thunderbirds, prepare the way."

"So you want to bring our weakened son into the heart of the storm on folklore?" Will demanded.

"Will, I-"

"I won't let any of you near him!" Will interrupted, his tone harsh and cold. "He took the good from me, Cara. He made me almost kill you. My children, my parents. Everyone. There's no fucking way I'm letting you, Emma or Max near that son of a bitch!"

"We don't have a choice!" Cara shouted back, her eyes welling with fresh tears. "If we don't try to destroy the Smoking Man, Max will DIE!"

"And I will destroy him - ME!"

"You know we can't do this alone," Cara reminded sternly. "Look at Max, Will! Look at your son! Isn't he proof enough that we can't be divided anymore? Isn't he?!"

Will was silent as he remembered Max's warning. He looked down at his son, seeing the thick dark lashes that framed his shut eyes, the sweat on his brow being dabbed away by his mother. His skin was pale; he was so fragile that he swore he was looking at the infant Max once was before he and his sister grew so dramatically fast.

He hated to admit that Cara and John were right, but he knew he needed to swallow his pride and not allow himself to be tricked into believing, yet again, that he was capable of defeating evil on his own. He stroked Emma's hair, urging the girl to relax since he felt her tense as soon as he and Cara began to argue. "It's alright, sweetie," Will murmured. "Your mommy is right. We can't divide anymore."

The family remained quiet, Will becoming lost in the terrifying possibilities of what might become of his family should he willingly let them walk into the center of danger. Cara shuddered, feeling her head bob with heaviness as the lack of food finally overtook her. "Cara!" Will said with shock, taking Max and laying him on the seat while Emma climbed out of the car.

"I'm fine," Cara insisted through an incredibly weak tone.

"You're pale," Will argued, feeling her forehead. "You need to drink something." He began to search through the bags furiously for rations and water, coming up with them after only a moment. He pressed the water bottle to her lips, guiding the liquid into her dry mouth. "Are you hungry?" he asked, handing Cara a piece of fish jerky.

Cara's reaction startled Will, seeing her gag at the sight of the fish. "Baby," he whispered, "what's wrong?"

"Mommy hasn't been feeling good," Emma admitted, seeing how her father was surprised with the answer.

"For how long?" Will asked.

"For almost a week."

"I was gone for four days. All four days, Emma?" Emma nodded her head in response to Will, whose eyes fell back onto Cara.

"I'm fine," Cara insisted, sitting up weakly, trying to take Max back into her arms.

"No," Will stopped her. "Rest." His mind was working on overdrive, words failing him as he glanced toward his daughter. It was too familiar to how she had described it before, the paleness of his wife's skin, the aversion to usual food, the weakness. Could she ...? He felt his heart lodge in his throat at the thought. "Emma," he whispered to the girl, "I need you to go with River and his family for a little bit, okay?" He drew his daughter into his arms. "I need to talk to Mommy."

"Okay," Emma murmured, Will watching carefully as Shilah gathered Emma into his protection, giving Will a small nod.

"Cara," Will began once he knew they were alone, minus the sleeping Max laying beside her, "talk to me."

"I'm-"

"Cara," Will interrupted, silencing her with a thumb on her lips as he stroked her cheek. "Are you ...?" He saw how her lip quivered, the fear more than evident.

"I don't know," Cara whispered, forcing the fish into her mouth with a grimace.

"Alaska," Will breathed.

"Will ... the virus I was exposed to ..."

He hadn't remembered. His eyes widened. "You'd be ..."

"Maybe eight to ten weeks by now."

Will gently kissed his wife's forehead. "We'll figure it out, okay?" he promised, tenderly assuring her as she cried against his shoulder.

"What if ... it's not ..."

"Shhh. Don't ... Don't think about that now."

"It's ALL I think about, Will! How can I not?"

"I need you to eat and stay strong, okay?" Will asked, examining Cara's face. "Please. Please just stay strong for me."

"I'm trying, Will," Cara replied with a shudder, her tears overwhelming her. "I've been trying. But it's not working. None of it is. None of this is what it should be."

"I know," Will murmured, combing his fingers through her hair as he felt his own residual pain from the magnetite still left inside of him. "But I promise you ... I promise you I'll make it right. I won't stop until I do."


	13. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

It was hours later when the group reached the outskirts of Mount Weather, Will able to confirm that it was where he was taken as well as where Cyrus remained. At all costs, they knew their goals were to get Cyrus out and to destroy the Smoking Man. Will remained reluctant about the concept of dragging his family into the heart of it all but knew there weren't many options left. Max was growing weaker by the minute and Will feared that if he didn't act on things, he wouldn't survive the onslaught of darkness plaguing his body.

The families of Shilah and Eric, as well as Christina, Gibson and Emma, stayed a distance behind, Eric being appointed as the protector of those who remained while the others. The plan wasn't all that detailed or concise; Will chalked up the lack of preparation they each seemed to be affected by to their mutual concern for Max. Their singular goal was simple, yet none of them truly knew what challenges they would face. Those who entered the base were armed, ready to encounter replacements, but they weren't sure what else would wait for them inside.

Skinner and Mulder were familiar with the layout, leading the way as they crept toward the edge and observed the activity. Heads turned quickly as human presence was detected, Will immediately using what little force he had to hold back the replacements as they were taken out one by one by the others, Cara crouched in hiding as she carried Max. It made Will sick to know his wife and son were so close to such danger, yet his only hope was that John's prophecy of the powerful touch shared between Max and the Smoking Man would save their son and condemn the evil back to where it came from.

It was clear enough to enter soon, the group quickly pushing in toward the heart of the building. A group of replacements quickly spotted them, bullets whizzing through the air as they tried to stop the breach. Sirens blasted throughout, warning the entire base of the invasion. "Will!" Cara breathed, clutching Max to her chest, "you've got to stop them!"

"I'm trying!" Will replied, his voice strained as he focused. The magnetite that lingered in his body made him weaker, resulting in powers that were less than usual. With all the effort he could muster, Will was able to freeze time - something he hadn't experienced in a long while. Despite his success, he quickly realized that freezing time meant he froze everyone else around him, including those who could help him eliminate the replacements who sought to destroy them.

Keeping his focus on the still landscape around him, Will began taking out the replacements nearest to them with a single gunshot to the neck, preparing himself to pull the others to safety as soon as he released his grip on time. With an exhausted sigh, Will restored things to normal, yanking his family along as the men around them dropped to the ground.

"That's it!" Mulder encouraged, pressing the others forward as he held up the rear.

"Yeah, well I don't know how many more times I can do that!" Will groaned, feeling the ache tearing through him.

They pressed forward, surprised at the lack of pursuit from any replacements on the base. "We've got to find Cyrus!" Cara reminded, hoping Will hadn't forgotten. He hadn't; Will nodded, glancing around as they tore through several halls, doors that were locked kicked open and revealing nothing more than empty spaces. "Do you know where he is?"

"I haven't seen him since we were initially separated," Will admitted, knowing the information discouraged Cara.

More replacements came from around the corner ahead of them, this time Will's reaction just a bit slower but enough to overpower them with a forceful blast into the opposite wall. Mulder and Skinner quickly took down the closest two, Scully and Shilah finishing the final three as Will sheltered Cara and Max.

Cara froze when she heard an incessant banging coming from the distance. "Cyrus!" she gasped, her eyes growing wide. The group quickly made their way down the corridor, following the noise coming from the sealed room. "Cyrus!" Cara shouted, breathing heavily as she clung to Max.

"Caraline!" Cyrus' voice came from behind the door, muffled from the thick barrier. With a bit of focus and effort, Will concentrated on the lock, the door opening after a few moments. Cara's eyes widened as soon as she saw Cyrus. "Are you alright?" Cyrus asked, scanning the group quickly.

"We're okay," Will murmured. "But Max needs help."

"Maddox," Cyrus breathed, seeing his nephew limp in his sister's arms.

"Cyrus, do you know where the Smoking Man is?"

Cyrus shook his head. "I haven't seen him for a bit now."

"Damnit!" Will growled. "We can't have missed him!"

With suddenness, the base began to shake, the earth underneath them quivering. "Shit," Will growled, taking Max into his arms and drawing Cara near. "This is familiar," he added with sarcasm.

"They're leveling the base," Skinner murmured, glancing behind them as another boom rattled the ground.

"Come on," Mulder urged, pulling the group forward.

"I've got to find him!" Will insisted, holding Max. "I'm not leaving until I do!"

"Will!" Cara objected.

"Cara, you said so yourself - it's the only way."

She paused, looking deep into Will's eyes. "Then I'm staying with you."

"No!"

"Yes!" Cara insisted, remaining by Will's side. "We can't divide."

Will growled, "Shilah, Skinner - get back to the car! Cyrus, Dad, Mom ... get out of here."

"William-" Scully began to object.

"Look-"

"No, William," Mulder insisted, remaining firm. "We can't divide."

Hating that everyone was being stubborn, Will yelled, "Come on!" and led the group forward toward the rear of the building. His heart raced as he rushed through the base, the walls and ceilings shaking with fury as the charges were being set in an attempt to kill the group. The group ran as fast as they could, soon nearing the outside of the base. The sliver of light that came through the bottom of the door was their only reassurance to keep pushing, Skinner and Mulder both taking turns to kick it open after two blows.

The force of an explosion directly behind them caused the group to collapse to their knees outside on the rocks and dirt, everyone instinctively covering their heads or someone else's as the rubble settled and blocked the doorway they just came from. Will stood, pulling Cara up with him but tucking her behind himself as he clutched Max. Cara couldn't understand why he was so still, but as the others slowly rose, she saw the answer in front of her.

"What a nice gathering you've arranged for me, William," the Smoking Man said calmly as he stood a distance in front of them, the group preparing themselves for a defense. "You even brought the boy. How touching."

Will's eyes narrowed. In all of the times he imagined facing off with the Smoking Man, he never saw those he cared about behind him, and most certainly not his son so vulnerable in front of him. He felt Cara's gentle touch on him from behind. "Don't be afraid," she whispered, as if she knew exactly what was running through his mind. "Don't let him use your fear. You can defeat him."

"It's rather amusing, really, your pep talk, Caraline," the Smoking Man remarked, lifting a hand toward her. Immediately, Cara fell to her knees, her hands flying to her throat. When the others tried to aid her, they too fell to their knees, each gasping for air. "The choice is yours, William," the Smoking Man continued, seeing Will's helpless attempts at freeing his family. "Hand over the boy and they all live. Keep the boy and they all die."

Will faced the Smoking Man, keeping Max balanced in one arm while his other hand reached out to try to counter the Smoking Man's force. His tries were met with a maniacal laugh. "You really think you can defeat me?" the Smoking Man asked. "You are pathetic, William. You chose a soul over the power that can kill me. Now your son is dying because of it."

He could hear everyone gasping for air, the seconds passing audibly by as he was forced to come to a decision. "You're right," Will said firmly, gripping Max as he stepped closer to the Smoking Man. He paused only for a second when he saw how the Smoking Man winced the closer Max came, a lightbulb turning on in his mind. "I did choose to have a soul. But I didn't lose the power to kill you."

The boy was stronger than the Smoking Man thought or believed, pained with each inch Will boldly approached. His grip on the others behind Will loosened, the power seeping from him. Will saw how Max convulsed violently. _Evil seeking evil, _Will thought in horror. His son was absorbing it all. He needed to strike the heart of evil to release it, just as John had said.

Will didn't hesitate. Using the Smoking Man's surprised distraction of his son's power, Will pinned him down with his mind's force, the strength required to do so excruciating. None of it mattered, though. He stretched Max's arm out, resting the boy's hand on the Smoking Man's chest as he fought to keep the union of his greatest enemy and his greatest pride and joy. He felt the tears forming from both the strain of his effort and from the hope he carried in the promise of the prophecy - that evil would return to evil, that his son would be healed through the death of the Smoking Man. Max's body shook as his palm was pressed onto the Smoking Man's chest. "Please," Will begged. "Please, Max. I believe in you. I believe."

It was then that Will began to see the color return to Max's face, the boy's body still as Will kept his son's hand on the Smoking Man's chest. Will held his breath, watching the force draining from his son into the Smoking Man under him. He felt himself growing stronger as the remaining darkness, the darkness he struggled with all of his life, seeped from him as well. For the first time in his life, he felt free - he no longer felt like there was something inside of him to fight against. He felt oddly whole with the loss, relieved to see the darkness in both himself and Max be buried into the old man's body under him.

Max stirred, and Will yanked his son away from the Smoking Man, watching in shock as the Smoking Man's eyes remained wide open, his body shaking violently as it turned dark charcoal gray. Will moved away, quickly joined by the rest of his family as they observed the phenomena. Each of them were speechless, Max perhaps the least shocked as they watched the Smoking Man's body finally stop shaking. Mulder and Skinner kept their weapons trained on his body, Scully curiously moving toward the lifeless corpse and checking for a pulse. She gasped, her index and middle fingers feeling how icy cold and rock hard the Smoking Man's body was despite the hot air that lingered around them. "Oh my God," she breathed. "It's ... as if he's ... pure stone."

"He is," Mulder murmured, slowly tucking his weapon away as he watched the lifeless body of his enemy. "That was the price he paid."

"What do you mean?" Will asked, Max's arms wrapped around his neck as he held him.

"He abandoned humanity for power," Mulder explained, still focused on the Smoking Man. "Only, he never truly had power. He only had the fear he instilled in others."

"But because Will believed ..." Cara breathed, glancing at Mulder. "Because he believed, fear and evil were destroyed."

"All evil?" Scully asked, standing.

"I'm not sure, but I can only imagine that where there is no fear, there is no evil," Mulder replied.

"Will," Cara whispered, stunned at the revelation. "I ... I don't feel sick anymore."

All eyes shifted to Cara, her hand stroking her abdomen. She was louder in the statement than she thought. "Were you ...?" Mulder asked, shocked.

"I think so," Cara replied, swallowing.

"But ... not with ..." Cyrus stammered, unable to finish.

"I ... I don't know."

Will's jaw flexed, his teeth clamped together at the thought of his wife carrying the spawn of evil inside of her, it slowly destroying her from his lack of belief. "I say we don't give him another minute of our time," Will remarked, drawing Cara near to him.

The stoney figure below them remained cold, alone and lifeless as they departed. For them, the victory was that fear had been silenced once and for all, and that was all they needed.

* * *

Four months later  
December 24, 2013  
Chinle, AZ  
5:20 PM MST

"Plllllleeeeeeeaaaaaassssssseeeee?"

"No."

"PRETTY PLEASE?"

"No."

Emma frowned, her curls swinging as she pouted. "Come on, Mom!" she whined, nearly stomping after her as she followed Cara into the kitchen of their new home on the settlement with John's family.

"No, Emma," Cara replied, spinning around. "No means no."

"But-"

"You are one sentence away from being grounded," Cara warned, eying her daughter as she put her hands on her hips. "In fact, after I talk with your father, you very well might be grounded anyway."

"That's not fair!" Emma argued. "All the other girls in school-"

"I don't care what all the other girls are doing, Emma! Would you jump off of a bridge if all the other girls were going to?"

"Mom, it's just a nose ring!"

"And I said no."

Emma's high-pitch semi-scream was enough to grab the attention of Will as he walked through the front door. "What is going on?" Will demanded, fully dressed in his police uniform as he strode into the kitchen.

"Emma wants a nose ring," Cara explained, her hands still on her hips.

"What?!" Will asked, shocked as he looked at his daughter.

Emma tried to defend herself. "It's just a tiny-"

"No," Will said firmly. "No nose rings." He saw Emma's reaction, adding, "And you're not eighteen yet, so don't even try to use that."

"How would you even know if I WAS eighteen?" Emma demanded.

"Your room. Go there. Now!"

"But-"

"NOW!"

Will shut his eyes, feeling the breeze pass by him from Emma's hasty exit. "Well, that's not what I was expecting on Christmas Eve," he mumbled, hearing the door slam down the hall.

"Me either," Cara replied, sighing as she examined the half-full cookie sheet, the globs of chocolate chip dough waiting patiently to be baked. "What happened to the cute little kids we had?"

"They grew into teenagers."

"Will, what do we do when they get to be our age?"

"They'll stop growing, like I did."

"Yeah, but I highly doubt we can send twenty-something year-olds to their rooms."

"True."

"This is going to be weird."

"You're telling me."

"Hey Dad," Max said, strolling into the kitchen as he snagged a still-warm cookie from the tray Cara was filling.

"No more!" Cara scolded. "This is your fifth one!"

"But they're soooo good," Max said, biting down on the cookie with satisfaction. His voice was both in the process of changing and muffled by the cookie bits. "And I'm soooo hungry."

"And you just ate a snack."

"I'm growing."

Cara's eyes narrowed at her son. "Well, go grow at your grandparents' house. I need these for tonight."

"Why don't you go get ready for tonight, Max?" Will said, ushering his son toward his room.

"I am ready," Max said proudly, brushing the cookie bits on his worn jeans.

"No way," Will replied. "You're not going to a wedding wearing that."

"But my suit is too short!"

Will sighed. "Then wear one of mine," he suggested, pushing Max toward the hall. "Go wash up and be ready in fifteen minutes."

Max shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he disappeared down the hall. "Great," he heard Cara mumbled. He turned and saw her frowning over the assortment of baked goods that was gathered on the counters. "There's hardly enough to feed Max here!"

"Cara," Will assured, wrapping his arms around his wife, "there's plenty. It's just the usual people."

"But it's Cyrus' wedding," Cara argued with a huff. "It's got to be perfect."

"And it will be because it already is."

Cara eyed Will, unable to keep her scolding frown for more than a few seconds. "I missed you today."

"Yeah, well I missed you a billion times more," Will replied, kissing her skin between her shoulder and neck.

"I'm surprised you survived without me by your side."

"Barely did. A few other people barely did, too."

Cara laughed. "So I guess if I told you I wanted to play Suzy Homemaker for the rest of my life, you'd most likely kill someone?"

Will's eyes widen. "You don't really, do you?"

"No," Cara said softly. The conversation took a sudden somber turn. "I can't wait to get back to the force."

Will's voice was hesitant; he was afraid to ask. "How ... How are you ...?"

"I'm fine, Will," Cara assured, stiffening a little in his arms.

"I know the miscarriage took a lot out of you and-"

She turned and faced him. "I'm fine," she repeated, stroking his cheek. The miscarriage of the baby she did discover she was pregnant with was a bittersweet occurrence. While no one knew exactly whether the small life was pure or not, the loss was still there. "I'm blessed," she whispered, kissing his cheek.

"I feel like I keep failing you," Will admitted, his head sinking.

"Why do you say that?"

"I promised to show you what Christmas really is suppose to be like, and I haven't yet. You've been through so much ..."

"It's only Christmas Eve, Will," Cara interrupted gently with a twinkle in her eye as she nodded up toward the mistletoe overhead. "You've still got time."

* * *

Christina's and Cyrus' wedding was simple and elegant, the warmth of the family surrounding them as they exchanged personal vows with John ordaining the union. Will's and Cara's cabin, being the largest, was fully decorated for the reception, lights sparkling from the windows and the tree tucked in the corner that was far too big but exactly what Will wanted.

Music filled the home as Christmas carols were sung, intermixed with beautiful Navajo chants and dance. The air was alive - despite the literal and figurative darkness that had surrounded them for so long, they were finally together, finally a family, finally free.

Mulder drew Scully close, admiring the way her russet hair was curled and skimmed her bare shoulders. "Leave it off," he urged as he saw her try to adjust her wrap over her emerald green dress. He swooped down to kiss her shoulder, watching their son, his wife and their children laughing and dancing with Cyrus and Christina, who were beaming with newly-wedded bliss.

Scully leaned into Mulder, a sigh deep in her throat as she pressed against him. "I didn't think we'd ever get here, but we finally did," she whispered. "We're finally a family."

A few loud screams of laughter erupted from the crowd as a clumsy Cyrus tripped over his own feet, dragging Christina in her knee-length white dress with him onto the floor. "Bloody hell!" he shouted, Christina's giggle making him smile.

"And with more family than we ever imagined," Mulder remarked.

"Promise me we'll never lose this," Scully pleaded, her voice serious as she tightened her grip on Mulder's hands that rested over her.

"I promise you, I won't ever let this go."

"Promise me the darkness won't find us again."

"It won't."

"Promise me, Fox."

Mulder took a deep breath. It was a lot to ask, he knew she knew that. "I promise you, Dana," he breathed. "I believe that the darkness is gone from our lives. And even if it is still out there somewhere, I won't let it return."

* * *

Thousands of miles away, the cold winter wind whipped through the trees, the long forgotten half-burnt rubble nearby uncovered then recovered by the fresh white snow that danced with the chilly breeze. The landscape was light and untouched, pure and crisp as the moon gleamed overhead, making the crystals glow under its soft light.

It was a place of abandonment, a place where fear once lived embodied and roamed. Now, it held only the snow in its borders, even nature itself leery of approaching the desolate site for reasons unspoken.

Deeply buried under pure powder, it remained, locked in the cold and harsh reality that contained it, dark as the bargain that shaped it. It, too, had been forgotten; it knew this. Yet, it had been patient, knowing the time would soon come when the earth would be ready to receive it once more.

White began to bleed, black rising to the surface as it stained the ground, leaking from its host. It slithered, traveling in an ambivalent and languid path. Despite its appearance of uncertainty, it was more than aware of where it was going. It was going back to where it began, to the root of its existence. It knew the time would soon come for it to rule once more as it seeped into the earth bit by bit, disappearing out of sight.

Soon, it would reclaim its place. Soon, it would reclaim control.

For now, it would let them believe.

* * *

_**fin.**_


	14. Acknowledgements

**Well, we're here - we've reached the inevitable end.**

**It's bittersweet for me to be at this point. Five months ago, I began to pen an idea I had that took the shape of "Clandestine" and the story grew even bigger than I could have imagined. I am humbled by the candor and support I've received to write the series, and I am grateful for the honest feedback and time everyone contributed through reading. As a writer, people are invaluable, as are each of you who took a chance on a post-series story like this one.**

**I am looking forward to new things ahead, namely venturing out into the realm of self-published fiction. This series was a launchpad back into writing after a long hiatus, and I have been renewed and refreshed by my experience here. If you'd like more info about the original story I'm publishing in 2015, message me.**

**My parting words? Hmm ... How about a piece of advice from Franz Kafka?:**

**_"Don't bend; don't water it down, don't try to make it logical. Don't edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly."_**

**Here's to everyone doing just that.**

**Cheers, FF dot net! It's been a blast.**


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